The Good, The Bad, And The British
by L.B.Wolfe
Summary: The notorious outlaw Bakura Touzoku has been tormenting the otherwise peaceful village of Domino for five years. Will a drifter known as Marik Ishtar be able to finally bring the criminal to justice? Western AU. Thiefshipping in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: ...I don't really like westerns. I have actually never watched a single western in my life. I have no clue where this idea came from, but it seemed like an okay idea, so I decided to give it a shot. But I can't promise anything.**

**Disclaimer: Yu-Gi-Oh and its characters are the property of Kazuki Takahashi. I know nothing except this story.**

* * *

_Five Years Ago..._

Knock, knock, knock

"Could you get that, dear?" A woman called to her husband from the small kitchen of their ranch house.

"Who could it be at this hour?" The man started for the door. He paused before opening it. "Your mother isn't visiting again, is she?"

"No, I'm sure she's not. She would have sent us a letter or a telegram if she was."

"Well, you never know with that woman," the man muttered to himself. He opened the door and his expression morphed into one of shock. "What on earth?"

A young boy, only about eleven or twelve, stood leaning on the doorframe, clutching his arm. Blood was seeping from between his fingers. He seemed relieved that the door had been opened.

"Please - please...help," he said, legs buckling.

"What is it? Where are your parents?" The woman came out of the kitchen as the man asked these questions. She covered her mouth with both hands, horrified at the sight of the small boy in the doorway.

"B-bandits...they - they attacked my home...my parents...my sister...there was a fire - augh!" The boy cried out as he collapsed into the man's arms.

"Bandits? Those dirty, rotten..."

"Tristan!" the woman said. "This boy needs medical attention! Go and fetch the doctor!"

"But, Serenity, if there are bandits around - "

"I'll be fine. I'm more concerned about this child than myself. Take him into the spare bedroom, then you go fetch Doctor Mutou at once!"

The couple was so busy talking, they didn't notice the boy crack open one eye to watch them. They didn't notice the smirk that slowly made it's way onto his face. He had found the perfect targets.

* * *

"Ms. Serenity!" The boy ran happily into the small kitchen. "These are for you." He held out a small bundle of wildflowers that he had picked by the stables.

"Why, Bakura, they're lovely! Thank you so much!" Serenity smiled as she took the flowers. The boy was healing quite well. Doctor Solomon Mutou had bandaged the small wound on his arm and said that Bakura had most likely inhaled a bit of the smoke from the fire that killed his family and had been very frightened on top of that. This explained why the child had collapsed on the doorstep.

Bakura certainly showed no signs of collapsing now. He was a very healthy young boy and the fire had not done too much damage. He did occasionally wake up screaming from a nightmare, but it was to be expected from a child who had witnessed such traumatic events as Bakura. Tristan and Serenity would go and comfort the boy whenever these nightmares. They rather liked boy, and, seeing as they had no children of their own, liked to think of him as a son. They owned a horse ranch a few miles from a small village, so they enjoyed having the child around.

Tristan came into the house. He smiled at Bakura.

"Bakura, would you like to help me with the horses?" Bakura's face lit up.

"Oh, yes, please, Mr. Tristan!" Tristan laughed as the young boy followed him outside.

A brown horse came trotting over. He sniffed the top of Bakura's head and snorted.

"He likes you," Tristan said. "Would you like to ride him?"

"Can I?"

"Sure, let me get him saddled up."

A few minutes later, Bakura was sitting atop the horse, listening to the instructions Tristan was giving him.

"If you want to go faster, just nudge him in the sides. Don't go too fast, now, I don't want you falling off and hurting yourself."

"Yessir." Bakura flicked the reins and the horse started walking. Bakura gently kicked its sides and it moved up to a brisk trot. Bakura waited a few more moments before making the horse gallop, then run. The horse was fast, Bakura noted. _Very_ fast. Serenity came out of the house.

"Dinner!" she called.

"Okay, come on back, Bakura!" Tristan called. Bakura tugged on the reins.

"Whoa," he said. The horse slowed and then stopped. Bakura slid off onto the ground. The horse whinnied and nudged him with its nose.

The horse was well-trained, and it seemed to like him. Excellent.

"That was some good riding, Bakura." Tristan ruffled the boy's hair affectionately.

"Thank you, Mr. Tristan." Bakura could hardly keep a grin of self-satisfaction off his face.

He had a horse.

He had their trust.

He just needed a few more days.

* * *

A few nights later, there was a horrible storm. Serenity was worried that the child would be frightened.

"Tristan, I'm going to check on Bakura," she said, getting out of bed. Her husband grunted in response.

Serenity walked to the spare bedroom, needing no light as she knew the way by heart. She slowly opened the door.

"Bakura?" she said softly. "Are you doing alright?" There was no response. Serenity stepped into the room. "Bakura?" There was a flash of lightning. In the split second that the room was lit up, she could see that, other than herself, the room was empty.

Bakura was not in his bed.

Now feeling very worried, Serenity went downstairs.

"Bakura?" There was a small noise from the kitchen. Serenity felt relieved. Bakura must have gone to get a snack. She walked into the kitchen. She froze. Bakura twisted his head around.

Bakura had one leg out the window. On his shoulder hung a small bag. When Bakura turned, a slight clink of metal could be heard and Serenity immediately knew what the bag held. Her eyes filled with tears. The two stared at each other for a few moments. Serenity heard footsteps behind her.

"Serenity, I thought I heard something. Is every..." Tristan trailed off, taking in the sight before him.

Quick as a rabbit, Bakura slipped out the window and took off running. Tristan grabbed his rifle and ran for the door with Serenity not far behind. Lightning flashed, illuminating the silhouette of Bakura sitting tall atop the brown horse, who was running furiously.

Tristan fired a shot and Serenity cried, "Tristan, don't! He's only a boy!"

"You saw what he did! We took him in, cared for him, and he robbed us! He might have been planning this the entire time he was here!" Tristan raised his voice. "Damn you, Bakura Touzoku! You no-good thief!"

And the legend of the outlaw Bakura Touzoku began.

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**Love it? Hate it? See anything that needs improving? Review, please!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Well, here's the second chapter. Still can't believe that I'm actually writing a Western. Still haven't actually seen a Western. Here we go.**

**Thanks to: xXI. Hate. TwilightXx, sandydragon, Spottedpaw13, MaskYourSmile, j bear, mika, and ChocolateLizz for reviewing!**

**In response to j bear and ChocolateLizz:**** This is Yami Bakura. I considered having it be the tanned Bakura (aka Thief King/Akefia) for a while, but I kind of prefer the pale one, so I wound up using him. **

* * *

_Five Years Later..._

Marik Ishtar rode along a deserted road. The sun was hot and he felt sweat collecting under the brim of his hat, running down to sting his violet eyes. His horse seemed to be moving slower than it had been, too.

"We'd better find a town soon," Marik muttered. "Or else both of us will pass out." The horse snorted, as if in agreement. Marik scanned the horizoin, searching for any signs of civilization.

"There!" he said, spotteding a house not too far in the distance. "Maybe we can stop there and get directions to town. And maybe some water."

The horse whinnied and waved its head up and down, like it was nodding. Marik pulled the reins, turning the horse in the direction of the house.

Before too long, the house came clearer into view. Marik could now see a stable behind the house. A bot was leading a horse into these stables. A woman with long, reddish-brown hair was standing out front. She looked up and smiled as Marik approached.

"Helo," she called. Marik tipped his hat in greeting.

"Ma'am," he replied politely.

"Your horse looks tired," the woman noted.

Marik seized his chance. "Well, I'm sure he is, ma'am, we've been travelling for a very long time."

"I'm sure he's rather thirsty. And you look like you could use a drink as well. Why don't you stop and rest a while?"

"That's very kind of you, ma'am." Marik dismounted his horse and walked over the woman.

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Marik Ishtar."

"I'm Serenity Taylor. Follow me." She led him around to the back of the house. "Yugi!" she called. The boy that Marik had seen from a distance earlier popped out of the stables.

"Yes, Mrs. Taylor?" he said. The boy looked to be about Marik's age, but only half his height. His hair was spiked and was three different colors (which Marik found rather strange, but who was he to judge?) and his eyes were large and innocent-looking.

"Could you please take care of this young man's horse? They've been travelling and need to rest."

"Of course, Mrs. Taylor." The boy took the horse's reins from Marik. "I'm Yugi Mutou," he said, holding out his free hand. "I work and live here at the ranch."

"Marik Ishtar. I work and live...well, nowhere, really," Marik replied, shaking Yugi's hand.

As Yugi took Marik's horse to the stables, a man stepped out of the house. His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of Marik and he walked over to them.

"Serenity, who is this?" he asked.

"Oh, this is Marik, Tristan. He was passing by and looked like he needed a place to rest. Marik, this is my husband, Tristan Taylor."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Taylor." Marik held out his hand. Tristan frowned and eyed the tan boy suspiciously.

"_Something tells me that this guy doesn't take well to strangers,_" Marik thought, lowering his hand. _"Wonder what his story is?"_ Tristan turned to his wife.

"Serenity," he said. "I checked on dinner like you asked. It looks about ready."

"Wonderful. Marik, would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Well, thank you ma'am. That's very kind of you," Marik said, trying to ignore the look of obvious displeasure that crossed Tristan's face. Marik hadn't been expecting to stay too long, himself. He had only planned on staying long enough for his horse to rest. He never preferred to stay too long in places where he couldn't work. These people already had a worker for their ranch, and Tristan seemed to be a strong, hardworking man. There wasn't anything that Marik could do here, and he didn't want to waste too much time. For Marik Ishtar, every second counted, in more ways than one.

But, Marik knew that his horse needed a break from walking since dawn, and, in all honesty, Marik could go for a bit of real food for the first time in a couple of weeks. Maybe just a little while wouldn't hurt...

* * *

A few minutes later, Marik found himself sitting at a table with Serenity, Tristan, and Yugi. He had to admit, he felt a bit out of place. His clothes were sweat-stained and dusty from travelling so long, his hair was tangled from wearing his hat, and his suntanned skin felt sticky and uncomfortable from the drying sweat. He didn't feel like he belonged at this table with clean, civilized people; he belonged outside, under the stars, making a campfire to cook whatever food - usually biscuits or beans - he had in his saddle bags.

"So, Marik," Serenity said, startling the tan boy. "Where are you from?" Marik frowned slightly. He had been gone for six years, and everything that had happened in those six years seemed to have wiped the name of his hometown clean from his memories.

"I...I can't quite seem to remember...Doesn't matter, I suppose. One town is the same as another to me."

"Tell us your story," Yugi said suddenly. Marik blinked at the smaller boy.

"Pardon?"

"Every drifter has a story," Yugi explained. "Tell us yours."

"Are...are you sure you want to hear my story?" Marik asked hesitantly.

"Yes, Marik, why don't you tell us about yourself?" Serenity interjected. "We don't have company very often, and it will be nice to talk about something other than horses for once," she added with a gentle smile at her husband. "Right, dear?" Tristan didn't look up from his plate. "Tristan?"

"Hmph. I suppose," Tristan finally responded, grumbling.

"Come on, Marik, tell us," Yugi urged. Marik sighed.

"Alright, I'll tell. But I should warn you, it's not exactly the happiest of tales." He took a deep breath and began.

"When I was born, my mother died after giving birth. I guess it was kind of for the best, since we didn't live in the best town and we were pretty poor, but I do wish I had gotten the chance to know her. I was told when I was older that I should have had a twin brother, but he was born dead because of an accident that happened while Ma was carrying us. I never actually found out what that accident was...

"My Pa was a sick man, real sick My older brother, my sister, and I found it a miracle if he could find the strength to get out of bed. When I turned ten, he took a turn for the worse. He could barely even speak and kept seeing things that weren't there. My brother, Odion, and I decided to leave town, to see if we would be able to find any help for him in any neighboring towns. Ishizu, my sister, stayed to look after the old man.

"Odion and I travelled together for four years. Anytime we could work, we took the opportunity. Most everything we earned was sent back to Ishizu and our father. Odion was the best friend I ever had. He was always looking out for me, he took care of me, and taught me everything I needed to know while we were travelling. When you forget that my Pa was dying, things seemed perfect. But I guess my life isn't meant to be that good.

"Two years ago, Odion and I were packing up our campsite, getting ready to head out, when...he was stung by a scorpion." Marik squeezed his eyes shut - he hated this part. "I...I guess he was so concerned with making sure that I remembered to check my boots that he forgot to check his own. He got sick...I couldn't do anything but try to look after him. We stayed put for four days and three nights. He...he died on the fourth night." Marik swallowed hard and took a drink of water to clear the catch in his voice.

"I wanted to go home right then, but I still had Pa and Ishizu to think about. Next time I got the chance, I sent them a message saying that Odion was dead. I'm the only son now,and I carry the burden of the entire Ishtar family. If something were to happen to me...I'm not sure what would happen to my father and sister." There was a silence over the table when Marik finished. Even Tristan had looked up from his plate while Marik was speaking. Marik cleared his throat.

"So, I guess what it all comes down to is, I'm looking for help for my father. Ishizu hasn't sent word that he's died, so I guess that's a good thing, but I'm worried about how much longer he'll last."

"Maybe my grandfather could help!" Yugi suggested.

"Your grandfather?"

"He's the doctor in Domino, the village a few miles away. Maybe if you talk to him, he'll be able to do something."

"Doctor Mutou is one of the best doctors around," Serenity added. "I'm positive he'd be able to do something! Why don't you go talk to him tomorrow?"

"Um, okay, if you...tomorrow?"

"Yes, tomorrow. I _insist_ you stay here tonight."

"Oh, well, that's very nice of you, but I don't - "

"I won't hear another word. You're staying here." Marik groaned inwardly. Just what he needed: a stubborn woman.

"I guess I have no choice, then. Just let me go check on my horse."

"I'll go with you," Yugi offered, standing up.

As the two boys headed out of the house, Marik couldn't help but overhear Tristan say, "Serenity, what are you thinking? You know you can't trust everyone who happens to pass by! He said he needs money, what if he's a thief?"

"Tristan, does he have the face of a thief to you?"

"No, but that doesn't prove anything! After all, _he_ didn't look like a thief when he first came to us!" Silence followed Tristan's comment.

"'_He'? I wonder who 'he' is?"_ Marik thought as he followed Yugi to the stables. "_But it seems to upset the both of them. I'd better not ask them. However...Yugi may know something._"

"Say, Yugi? Could I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Your boss - Tristan - he doesn't seem to like it very much that I'll be staying here tonight. Do you know why?"

Yugi frowned slightly and stared at the ground. He hesitated before responding.

"Mr. Taylor...he used to be a great guy. Friendly, trusting, always willing to open his house to anyone who passed by...but one day, that all changed."

"Changed? How?" Marik was genuinely curious now.

"I don't know the whole story, but...five years ago, the Taylor's took someone in. A boy, not much older than you or me. He stayed with them for a few weeks. Mr. Taylor actually thought of him as a son. Then, one night...the boy betrayed him. He robbed Mr. and Mrs. Taylor, and then stole one of their horses to escape on. Ever since that day...Mr. Taylor has lost his ability to trust. The only reason I'm able to work and stay here is because my older brother is friends with Mrs. Taylor's brother."

Marik couldn't help but feel bad for Tristan, despite the way he had acted towards Marik. He didn't like to think that anyone, much less a kid, could be so cruel, to gain someones trust and then break it so easily. But the world was a cruel place, especially, it seemed, for Marik. Even Odion believed that his brother was destined to suffer.

Marik closed his eyes briefly, as Odion's last words rang in his ears;

"_Sometimes, Marik...sometimes things happen...and you can't stop it. We're...caught in the lasso of fate, brother...and it seems that the holder of the rope has it in for you...Be careful Marik...and...always...check your boots."_

* * *

**Even when he's dying, Odion manages to make me smile. Kind of. The part where he was reminding Marik to check his boots, anyway. The rest was not as funny, but still a pretty good metaphor, I think.**

**R&R, please!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I'm sorry for the late update! I kind of forgot about this story a little...but that's what the first month of school does to you!**

**Thanks to: xxI. Hate. TwilightXx, MaskYourSmile, EuphrasieTheOwl, sandydragon, ChocolateLizz, Spotttedpaw13, and VampirePrinssess for reviewing!**

* * *

"Keep heading east. You should reach the town by noon. But be very careful. There's outlaws and bandits around these parts."

"Don't worry, I should be fine. My brother taught me how to take care of myself, and I always keep my gun loaded and in my saddlebag. I wasn't born yesterday."

"Marik, do you think that you could tell my brother and grandfather that I'm doing alright? And..." Yugi shifted his feet uncomfortably, glancing at Serenity out of the corner of his eye. He beckoned Marik closer. "There's, ah, a girl in town. Her name's Téa. She's pretty, got short brown hair and blue eyes. Always smiling. Could you give her this for me?" He pressed something into Marik's hand. "And tell her...I'm coming soon?" Marik grinned.

"You fancy this Téa, then?" he teased. Yugi's face reddened.

"Well, um, w-we want to get married...that's why I need this job...I've been saving for a few years and I'll probably just need a couple more months. That's why I want you to give that to her for me, to show her that I've almost got enough money." Marik glanced down at what he held in his hand. It was a necklace; just a simple gold chain, nothing incredibly fancy, but still fairly pretty.

"Alright, I'll give it to her. You can count on me."

"Thanks, Marik."

"No, thank you all for your hospitality. If you hadn't let me stay here, I probably would've been an easy target for any bandits that are around." Marik glanced at the sun. It had just risen not too long ago, but if he did want to reach Domino Village by noon, he would have to leave soon. "I should probably get going," he said. He walked over to his horse, which was freshly groomed and already saddled, and climbed on. Yugi and Serenity followed him.

"Good luck, Marik," Serenity said. "Don't stray off the road, or you'll never reach Domino."

"I hope my grandfather's able to help you," Yugi added.

"I hope so, too," Marik admitted. It was never a good thing to hope. He'd had too much false hope over the past six years. But stil...maybe this time, he would be lucky. He flicked the horse's reins and started off. On an impulse, he turned his head. Yugi and Serenity were standing by the house, waving. He raised his own hand in farewell before turning to face the road before him.

"_Domino Village,_" he thought. "_Sounds like a peaceful place. Maybe this is where my journey will finally end._"

* * *

The sun was high in the sky by the time Marik saw the town. He couldn't help but sigh with relief. He had made it, without running into any bandits. With his luck, he had expected to meet at least a couple on the way. Someone up in the sky must have smiled on him that day.

He couldn't help but look around a bit as he rode through the town. It was a pretty small place, and the people seemed friendly enough. That is, people kept smiling at him, anyway. There were a few suspicious glances, but not enough to make him nervous.

When he passed by a saloon, he realized he hadn't had anything to drink since dawn. He slid off his horse and tied it to a post before walking in.

There were quite a few people inside, considering the time of day. A few glanced in Marik's direction, but more were a bit more concerned with their card games or their drinks to notice him. Marik walked up to the bar and slid onto a stool. A man with blond hair walked over.

"What'll ya have?" he asked.

"Water." Marik figured he'd better not order anything alcoholic. He had a job to do, and he didn't want his mind to become foggy. Not to mention his sister would flip if she ever found out.

The man poured Marik's drink and handed it to him.

"Ya look like you've been travelin'. Where ya from, kid?"

"Doesn't matter. And I'm not a kid," Marik may have been only sixteen, but he felt much older. He had seen and heard things in his short life that half of the grown men in this bar had probably never seen.

Someone sat down on the stool next to him.

"Well, hello, sheriff. The usual?" the blond-haired man asked. The new person nodded.

"The usual, Joey." Marik looked at the new man out of the corner of his eye. He almost choked on his water when he saw Yugi Mutou. Well, an older version of Yugi, that is.

_"Must be his brother," _Marik thought as the bartender - Joey? - put a drink down in front of the man. "_Didn't know he was the sheriff."_

"How bad was it last night, sheriff?"

"You don't ask if we caught him or frightened him away, you only ask how bad it was?"

Joey shrugged. "If you had caught him, no one would be in here, the entire town would be celebratin'. And it's impossible ta scare him away."

The sheriff sighed. "He broke into Miho's house. Got away with a bunch of gold and jewelry. We tried to chase him, but...he shot Duke. My grandfather he's not gonna make it."

"Duke? The man who was always flirtin' with my sister, even though she's married?"

"The same. It's too bad, really. He was a good man. The first to volunteer when I asked for young men to help stop that outlaw. At another time, he could've been the sheriff of this town."

"He won't be forgotten easily, Yami. The village of Domino will work wwith ya 'til bakura Touzoku is hung and burning in Hell!"

Marik's curiosity was buzzing around in his skull. Bakura Touzoku? Who _was_this man they spoke of with such hatred and fear? Before he could stop himself, he heard himself asking, "Who's Bakura Touzoku?"

The entire saloon seemed to fall silent as Joey and the sheriff - was Yami his name? - turned to look at Marik. The sheriff spoke first.

"You're not from around here, are you, son?" Marik shook his head. "I though not. Your clothes are dusty and faded, your skin is so tan that, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were at least part Indian, but it's obvious that you've been on the road and in the sun for a long time." He paused, probably expecting a response.

"Six years, sir," Marik said. Yami said nothing, waiting for more information. "My father's sick, I'm looking for help for him."

"Ah, I see. That explains it, then. Everyone around here knows who Bakura Touzoku is."

"And those who don't learn real fast," Joey added.

"So, who is he?" Marik asked. He was impatient by nature, and he hated it when his questions weren't answered straight away.

"He's an outlaw in the worst meaning of the name," Yami said. "For five years he's been tormenting this town and I'm powerless to stop him."

"Why?"

"He's...uncatchable. One minute he's there, the next - " Yami snapped his fingers. " - gone. Just like that."

"Some folks say he's a demon, who crawled out of the desert when the full moon was at its highest," Joey cut in. "Others say that he was just a normal kid who hit his head on day and lost all knowledge of good. Me, I think he's the embodiment of all the evil in the entire world."

"You heard me say that he shot one of my men last night. Bakura Touzoku kills indiscriminately. Grown men, women, he's even killed a few children on occasion," Yami explained. "And he feels no remorse. He actually _enjoys _it. Last night, we never would have caught up to him. He knew we had no chance of catching him. But he shot Duke anyway, laughing insanely the entire time." Yami closed his eyes and shivered. "No man can stop him. It's impossible." He turned around on his stool to face the bar again. "and then he had the gall to tell us that he was going to hit Duke's place next, since Duke would have no more use for anything he owned."

"Ya gonna do a stakeout?" Joey asked.

"What's the point? We wouldn't be able to catch him, and if we tried we'd be short another man by tomorrow morning."

"I could do it." Marik was as surprised as Yami and Joey were at the sudden outburst. Why had he said that?

"You're out of your mind, boy," Yami said. "Didn't you hear me? No one can catch Touzoku. It's impossible."

"C'mon, sheriff, if he wants to be stupid, let him try. He'd figure out how over his head he is soon enough," Joey said. Yami slammed his fist onto the bar.

"I will _not_ have the blood of another innocent man on my hands!"

"Just give me a chance," Marik said. "I've spent the better part of my life traveling. I can get out of sticky situations quicker than most folks, and I can probably handle a gun better, too. I can take care of myself better than anyone I know."

"Didn't you say that your father was ill? Didn't I say that Bakura kills indiscriminately? What would happen to your father if you _die_?"

Marik couldn't respond. What _would_happen to his father and Ishizu? There was no way he could take out an experienced outlaw. He was just beinga braggart, gloating abut his talents with a gun and survival. He had never felt more embarrassed. Yami continued talking, in a gentler tone.

"Don't worry about it. This is our problem, not yours. Just let us handle this demon."

"Yeah, it ain't your fault that the Taylors welcomed him into their home five years ago and he betrayed them."

"The Taylors?" Marik's head shot up to stare at Joey. "Tristan and Serenity Taylor?"

"Uh, yeah, why? Ya know 'em?"

"They let me stay at their house last night."

Joey smiled. "That sounds like my sister, all right. Always takin' in drifters. Can't imagine Tristan was too happy, though."

Marik was hardly listening. So this "Bakura Touzoku" was the person who had betrayed the kind couple who had welcomed him into their home? Now that he knew that, he wanted to catch this outlaw more than ever.

"Sheriff," he said. He turned his head to look the older man in the eye. "I insist you give me a chance to catch Bakura Touzoku. If your men aren't able to, maybe a traveler, someone whose tricks he doesn't know, will have a better shot at it." There must have been a fire in his eyes, or an extra strength in his voice, because, much to his surprise, Yami reluctantly agreed.

"Well...alright. I suppose I can't convince you to change your mind, so I'll speak to the mayor and see if we should give you a chance. But, if the mayor agrees and you are allowed to stakeout Bakura, you are not to attack him straightaway. Wait to see if he lets his guard down. If he doesn't, get out of there before he catches you."

"Right." Yami shook his head.

"I can't explain it, but I've got this gut feeling that you might be able to stop Touzoku after all. There's just something about you...that fills me with hope. I haven't felt any type of hope in a long time."

* * *

**And next chapter, the mayor comes in! see if you can guess who the mayor is. Go on, I dare you!**

**On an unrelated note, did anyone else watch LittleKuriboh's "YGO Cosplay Challenge" on Youtube? I find the number one spot pretty darn funny, considering this story. Not to mention ironic.**

**R&R, please.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I was going to update last week, I swear! I even started typing this up. But then, I got bored and watched a bunch of YGOTAS episodes and after that I really didn't feel like writing...**

**Thanks to: MaskYourSmile, VampirePrinssess, mudkiprox, sandydragon, ChocolateLizz, and xXI. Hate. TwilightXx for reviewing!**

* * *

"Come with me," Yami said, standing up. "The mayor will want to see you." Marik stood and followed the man. Now that he was walking with the sheriff, he got quite a few more curious looks. Marik swallowed nervously when Yami led him to a house. The mayor's house. Yami knocked on the door and a small, black-haired boy answered.

"Hi, Sheriff Yami," he said with a small, curious glance at Marik.

"Hello, Mokuba. Is your brother around?"

"Yes, he is. Come in, please." The boy moved aside to let the two men enter the house. "I'll go get him for you." The boy left and Marik glanced around. The house was a good deal larger than the Taylor's home, or any other houses in the town. Marik had never seen a house like this. Then again, he had never really been inside a mayor's house before, so he assumed it was meant to be a bit fancier than a normal house.

"Hello, mayor," Yami greeted someone and Marik snapped back to attention. While he had been gawking, a tall man with brown hair and peircing blue eyes had entered. The mayor.

"Sheriff," the man said, nodding his head in greeting. "What's this about?"

"This young man here," Yami pushed Marik forward slightly. "Wants to try and catch Bakura Touzoku."

The mayor was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, "I think you'd better come in and sit down." He led them into another room. He sat down in a chair, and Yami and Marik sat down on a couch across from him. The mayor laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them.

"Now," he began. "Tell me your name."

"M-Marik Ishtar."

"And exactly how old are you?" Marik blushed and looked down. If he told them his age, they'd never give him a chance to try to catch this outlaw. "Well?"

"...Sixteen..."

"Ah. I _thought_that you looked a bit young," Yami remarked. "I was actually a bit glad to see that you had water instead of a beer or something in the saloon. ...Mayor?"

"Hmm..." The mayor appeared to be deep in thought. "That is interesting."

"Um...what's interesting?" Marik asked nervously.

"You are only sixteen, yet you think that you have a chance at capturing Bakura Touzoku, whom no grown man in this town has come close to capturing. The interesting thing," the mayor continued. "Is that you might actually have a slightly better chance than they did. You see, Bakura Touzoku, the worst scoundrel ever to set foot in this town, and perhaps in the world, is only seventeen."

"Seventeen?" Marik couldn't believe it. The image he had in his head of a scowling man with a stony face morphed into one of a smirking boy with a mischievous glint in his eyes. If he was only seventeen, why was the town seemingly powerless?

"But, I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to try your hand at capturing this outlaw."

"Wha-? But you just said that I had a chance! So why-"

"Marik! Sit down!" Yami ordered. "It is not our place to question the mayor!"

"Listen, Marik. While it is true that you might have a slightly better chance of capturing Bakura than any other man in this town, I can't overlook the fact that you are, indeed, quite young. I do not want to give you permission to throw your life away over the notion that you _might_ be able to catch him. It's simply too risky. I'm sorry."

"Seto?" Three heads turned. The young boy from before was standing in the doorway.

"Mokuba, go back to your room. This is very important business I'm discussing." Instead of leaving, Mokuba walked over to where the man was sitting. He put his hands on the arm of the chair and looked up at the older man.

"Seto, maybe we should let him try to catch Bakura. Maybe he'll be able to get the vengence you want."

"Mokuba..."

"They were my family, too, Seto! I want to see Bakura hung just as mush as you!"

Marik felt as if he was missing something.

"What are they talking about?" he whispered to Sheriff Yami.

"I think it's best if the mayor explains that himself. Mayor?"

The brown-haired man sighed and shifted slightly in his chair.

"It wasn't always just Mokuba and I living here. Up until a few years ago, we lived with our father, our brother Noah, and my finaceé, Kisara. Our father wasn't our birth father, he was our uncle, but he took us in when our parents died. Noah was our cousin, but he was just like a brother to us. And Kisara..." He clenched his fists over his knees. "Kisara was the kindest, gentlest, most beautiful girl that I had ever met."

"I was up late working one night, shortly after I became mayor, when I heard a scream. Mokuba came running in, yelling that the demon was in our house. It didn't take a genius to figure out who he was talking about, so I told him to stay put and went to see for myself."

"I was running through the entire house, searching each room, and I heard another scream, coming from the attic. I went up and I saw my father lying in front of the door in a puddle of his own blood. A few feet away, Noah, a _twelve-year-old _boy was sitting against the wall. He was bleeding horribly from several different wounds. He was staring at the window with a look of pure, unadulterated terror. I will never forget that look."

"He stared at the window and said, 'He's a demon,' and then he died." The mayor coughed to clear the catch in his voice and continued. "He died with his face still frozen in that look of terror, still staring at the window. I followed his gaze to see Bakura Touzoku, holding a knife against Kisara's neck. With the light of the full moon behind him, he truly looked like a demon. He laughed at me and, before I could move, said, 'My regards to the new mayor.' And then he slit Kisara's throat and disappeared. Just like that." Seto coughed again and placed his hand on Mokuba's head.

"Mokuba chose that moment to come upstairs. I told him to go get the doctor, but by the time he arrived, it was too late. I was holding her when she took her last breath. Bakura Touzoku is a demon. I probably shouldn't have even mentioned that you may have a chance. If a grown man is unable to stop him, why would a boy be able to?"

Marik was, needless to say, chilled. This outlaw killed a grown man, a twelve-year-old boy, and an innocent woman in cold blood, simply for the sake of killing? Add that to the man he had killed yesterday, and Bakura seemed truly ruthless. Maybe it was a stupid idea.

Then Marik remembered how he had felt when Odion had died right beofer his eyes, how he had felt when he'd found out about the twin brother and mother he never got to know. He never wanted that feeling again, or to give anyone else that feeling if he could help it. The people in this town had families, mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. Not only were they powerless against an outlaw, they were scared stiff of him. The mere mention of his name seemed to send chills up even the sheriff's spine. If a stranger didn't lend a helping hand, who would?

"Mayor," Marik began. "I know how you feel. I've had a few losses similar to your own. It hurts. But...hearing your story only makes me all the more determined to capture this outlaw. Please, give me one chance."

Seto stared at the young drifter. His clothes could use a good wash. Or two. His skin had been so browned by the sun, he was practically the same color as his horse. His hair - was that it's natural shade, or was it just sun-bleached? Just how long had this kid been on the road?

But the thing that caught they mayor's attention the most was the boy's eyes. They were purple, a rather unusual shade, and they were burning with a fire that he had never seen before.

Why was this stranger so keen to help? What good could a boy do against a professional outlaw, anyway? It was foolish to even think -

"_You've already tried everything,"_ the small, rational voice in his head spoke up. "_Why not give the boy a chance, if he's willing to help?"_

Seto sighed. "Alright," he agreed. "Just make sure to use extreme caution." _If this boy dies, it will be on my head for the rest of my life._

"I will," Marik promised.

"Bakura should be showing up at Duke's place tonight. Mokuba, why don't you show him around Duke's house?"

"Yes, Seto." Mokuba gestured for Marik to follow him. After they left, the sheriff and the mayor stood up.

"You sure about this, Seto?" Yami asked. "We could be sending him to his death. That boy-"

"No. He's not a boy," Seto interrupted. "Didn't you notice it, Yami? That look in his eyes...he's seen things in his short life that most people never want to see. That drifter is no mere boy. He is a man if I ever saw one."

* * *

**Yeah, totally made up the whole thing with Kaiba's dad actually being his uncle, and Noah being his cousin and everything. I don't really know why.**

**My cousin proofread the rough draft of this before I typed it up and when she got to the part where Kaiba told Mokuba to go back to him room, all she could think of was, "Shut up, Mokuba. Mommy and Daddy are talking." So now that's all I can think of, too.**

**R&R, please!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I have finally seen a western movie! Okay, it was Blazing Saddles, which is more of a western spoof, but it's still a western! Kind of. And yes, Bakura is in this chapter.**

**Thanks to: MaskYourSmile, VampirePrinssess, sandydragon, EuphrasieTheOwl, xBrokendollx, and ChocolateLizz for reviewing!**

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"Full moon? Check. Creepy, abandoned house owned by a dead guy? Check. Loaded gun? Check. Outlaw who, according to pretty much everyone, is a demon? No check." It was almost midnight, but the full moon seemed to make the night so much brighter.

"It could be worse," Marik told himself, walking past the back door of Duke's house for what seemed like the thousandth time. "It could be storming. But would that really be worse? Apparently this guy looks even more like a demon in the light of the full moon, so maybe it would be better if it was raining. But wait, if it was raining, I wouldn't be able to hear any footsteps or other noises over the sound of the rain, and I might not realize he's here until I'm dead. Am I thinking about this too much?"

Marik didn't quite know why he was muttering to himself about ridiculous things. Maybe it was to calm his nerves. He always babbled when he was nervous, and calling him "nervous" now would be the understatement of the century. If he screwed this up at all, he'd be dead, no question about it. Every little noise startled him, wondering if it was the outlaw.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," he said to himself. "Maybe I should just leave. Yeah, if I leave now, I could be miles away by the time dawn comes. But wait," he continued. "If I leave now, and he ends up coming later tonight, they might think I'm an accomplice of his. Then they'd never trust strangers again. Unless the tracks of our horses are going in different directions. But then they might just think that we went in separate directions to mislead them. Argh, it's so _confusing!_"

Marik threw his hat to the floor in frustration, only to pick it up and brush it off carefully a second later. This was _Odion's _hat, he couldn't treat it with disrespect, no matter how frustrating the situation was. Taking a deep breath in through his nose and out his mouth, he put the hat back on. He knelt to the ground and closed his eyes. He wasn't particularly religious, but he always felt better when he talked to family members who had passed away. He wasn't sure where or when he had developed the habit, but it had stuck with him and he always did it when he was in a tight spot.

"Odion? You there? You too, Mom? What about you, Malik?" Marik didn't know what his twin brother's name was supposed to be, because it made his father upset to talk about it (it had been Ishizu who had originally told Marik about his stillborn brother) so he had just made a name up. "I need some help. You guys probably already know this, but I kind of agreed to help this town catch this outlaw, but now I'm thinking it was a bad idea. I mean, I'm pretty much just a kid. This guy's not much older than me, but he's still a criminal who wouldn't think twice about killing me. I'm actually a little scared. If something were to happen to me, Dad and Ishizu would be all alone. I don't want that to happen, but I want to help these people, too. What should I do? I'm at a complete loss here."

He stayed in the same position for a while, waiting for an answer. At least one person must have been listening to him, because a memory that he hadn't thought about for years fought its way to the surface...

**(Flashback)**

"Marik, get back here!" Marik, ten years old, skidded to a halt at his older brother's voice. He watched as the rabbit he had been chasing darted out of sight and, with a small pout, turned and trudged back to the campfire.

"I was having fun!" he complained, flopping down next to Odion. "I almost had it, too!"

"Oh?" Odion smiled and ruffled his little brother's hair. "Tell me, then, exactly _what_ were you planning on doing if you had caught it?"

Marik blinked; he hadn't thought that far ahead. "Uh...let it go and chase it again?" Odion laughed. "What?"

"Nothing. But you really shouldn't wander off, Marik, especially when it's almost dark. You're old enough to know better."

"But it's _boring_ just riding a horse all day and not being able to run around! When are we going home, Odion?" Odion sighed.

"Maybe I shouldn't have brought you along. You're still a kid. You shouldn't be out here, you should be home."

"I'm glad you brought me along, though. I like being able be with you better than being stuck at home with Ishizu and Pa. Ishizu is always too busy taking care of Pa to pay any attention to me, and he never noticed me anyway. But will we be going home soon? I miss the town."

"Once we find a place with a doctor who can help our father we'll be able to go back."

"When will that be?"

"...Honestly? I don't know. Could be a few days, could be a few months. Might even be years."

"Years? But what if..." Marik hesitated. "What if Pa dies before we can find a doctor?"

Odion did not have an answer for that. "Come on, Marik, we should get some sleep. I'm sure that you're tired out from chasing that poor rabbit."

Marik looked like he wanted to argue, but instead he said, "Okay," and lay down on his mat.

"Tomorrow I'll teach you how to use a lasso."

"Really?" Marik's eyes lit up.

"Yes. It's a useful skill to have and, well, I get the feeling that you'll need it if I'm not around."

"But you'll always be around, and we'll find someone who can help Pa and then we'll be able to go home."

Odion laughed. "You sound so confident. Good night, Marik."

"Night."

**...**

"Marik, wake up." Marik opened his eyes and sat up.

"Did I oversleep?" he asked worriedly.

"Not much. I actually would've let you sleep longer, but I'm showing you how to lasso today, remember?"

"Yeah!" Marik jumped up excitedly. "Can we start now?"

"You're pretty anxious for a ten-year-old."

"None of my friends know how to lasso. And this way won't we have something good to tell Ishizu and Pa when we send word to them again?"

"I guess you're right. Put your boots on and we'll start. Wait," Odion said sternly when Marik began to tug his boots on. "Check them first."

"_Odion_," Marik groaned.

"Fine, don't check them. But don't blame me when a rattlesnake or a scorpion decides to crawl inside your boots and you put them on without checking..."

"I'm checking, I'm checking!" Marik snapped, turning his boots upside down and shaking them vigorously. "See? Nothing."

"It still never hurts to check. Because, who knows? The one time you don't check could be the time it hurts."

Marik grabbed a rope from Odion's saddlebag and threw it at his brother. "You gonna show me how to lasso, or what?"

"Okay, okay." Odion stood up. "Come on, I saw a rock yesterday that we can use for practice."

Marik followed Odion up a hill.

"Now, watch." Odion took the rope and tied a loop in it, before whirling it through the ari, allowing it to come to a rest on the rock.

"Wow! I wanna try now!" Marik said. Odion showed him how to hold the rope and explained how to throw it. Marik's first attempt landed in the dust.

"Try again," Odion encouraged. "It takes a few tries sometimes."

Three attempts later, Marik still couldn't get it. Six attempts later, he grew more and more frustrated. Eight attempts later, he angrily threw the rope to the ground.

"Lassos are stupid, anyway," he said. "If you want to make something stop, it's easier to just shoot it."

"That's true." Odion picked up the rope. "But what if you accidentally kill something, or some_one_, that you weren't supposed to kill?" Marik said nothing, so Odion continued. "Violence is not the answer to everything, Marik. I know that at your age it seems like it might be, but believe me, it isn't. Don't you remember when those bandits attacked our parents? Of course you don't you hadn't been born yet. But you've heard the story, haven't you?"

Marik nodded slowly. "Ma and Pa went to the doctor's one day and on the way back they were attacked by bandits."

"Right. Those bandits used guns purposefully to get what they wanted. You don't want to be like them, do you?"

"But I won't be like a bandit just because I use a gun! I'll only use it when I need something to stop!"

"A lasso is a gentler, _safer_ way to make something stop, Marik. You won't have to worry about shooting a bystander by accident, or taking care of someone's wounds if you do shoot them and aren't supposed to kill them. Here," he handed the rope back to Marik. "Why don't you try again?"

"But I can't do it, Odion."

"Sure you can. Just give it a try."

Reluctantly, Marik too the rope. He twirled it through the air several times before letting it fly. It sailed through the air, before finally landing on the rock that had eluded it before.

"I-I did it! I did it, Odion!" Marik laughed.

"See? It's not so hard. You just have to believe in yourself, Marik."

**(End Flashback)**

"_You just have to believe in yourself, Marik."_

Marik felt incredibly calmed by this memory. He _could _do this. All he had to do was believe.

"I can do this," he whispered. "I've been through stuff that most people my age usually have nightmares about. I can handle this."

_Snap!_

Marik's head whipped in the direction of the door. His hand went to his gun. Someone - or some_thing_ - was outside. Was it Bakura, come at last? Marik slowly walked over to the door and opened it. A bush rustled..._but there was no wind._ Swallowing hard, Marik cocked his pistol and aimed it at the bush.

"Wh-who's there?" he asked, cursing himself for the tremor in his voice. The bush rustled again, louder this time. Marik tightened his grip on his gun, putting the slightest bit of pressure to the trigger.

"Who's there?" he asked again. The bush rustled a third time, something was coming out. Marik prepared to shoot...as a baby rabbit hopped out of the bush. Marik relaxed immediately, unable to keep from laughing.

"Where do you come off scaring me like that?" he said to the small creature that was looking at him inquisitively. "Shouldn't you be home in bed, Junior?"

Marik turned, ready to head back into the house, when there was a chilling laugh from behind him. Chill erupted down Marik's spine.

That was no rabbit.

Thoroughly frightened, Marik dropped his gun and spun around. What he saw made his blood run cold.

Behind him, a tall man with extremely pale skin and wild white hair was holding the baby rabbit by its neck. The man was dressed completely in black, from his boots to his hat, except for a belt the color of blood. His hair, apart from being that unearthly color, was sticking out at various angles. Marik couldn't help but notice that two strands in particular were sticking out from under his hat in a fashion not unlike the horns of a devil. But his eyes - his eyes! His eyes were what caught Marik's attention the most. They weren't normal eyes. Even Marik, with his own unusual eye color, had to admit that.

On the first glance, he thought they were a very dark brown. Then he realized with a shudder that they were black, laced with a deep scarlet. They seemed to hold no emotion but pure evil. If evil was an emotion, anyway. Marik wanted to run, to scream, to do _something, anything_!, but he was rooted to the spot, as if meeting the man's eyes had cast a spell on him.

"_Bakura Touzoku,"_ he thought, cold dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Who else could it be? "_He really is a demon. They weren't just making up stories!"_ As he stared, stricken with terror, the man - was it a man? - spoke.

"This," he said, waving the bunny, which was squirming desperately to free itself. "Can't hurt you. It's harmless. _This_," he pointed to himself. "On the other hand, _can_ hurt you. I'm not nearly as harmless."

Before Marik could react, the outlaw tensed his hand around the baby rabbit's neck. A sickening _snap! _was heard and the tiny creature fell limp. Marik felt his stomach turn. Carelessly, as if it were an unwanted piece of garbage, the bunny was dropped to the ground and stepped on by the monster that had ended its short life with a simple flick of his wrist. Marik fought the urge to vomit as the man crushed the poor creature beneath his foot. Once he was finished, his gaze snapped back to Marik's. A smirk spread across his ghostly features as he started towards the tanned boy. Marik fell down as he tried to move away. He scrambled backwards, trying to avoid the advancing man as he fumbled desperately behind him. _Where was his gun?_

He wasn't fast enough. The man knelt down in front of Marik, once again capturing the boy's frightened gaze with his own wicked, piercing gaze.

"I wouldn't do that," the man drawled slowly. His voice sounded silky and deep, with a hit of a strange accent that Marik couldn't quite place. But the tone held something sinister, something wicked. Never withdrawing his gaze, the man reached around Marik and picked up his gun. Marik stared at it, horrified. It had been just within his reach! If he had just grabbed it before the outlaw had, he would be fine! The man cocked Marik's gun and carefully aimed it at Marik's wildly pounding heart. Marik felt terror set in fully as the realization of what this man was planning fully set in.

"_He's going to kill me! Oh, God, oh, God! I don't want to die! I can't believe I_ _was so stupid! What's going to happen to Dad and Ishizu now? Oh, God, please, I don't want to die!"_

"Tell me," the man's silky, deadly voice broke Marik away from his desperate inner pleas. "Do you know who I am?" It was an unusual question, but Marik answered anyway.

"Y-you're Bakura T-Touzoku," he said, desperately trying, but failing, to let his voice betray how terrified he was. "Th-the outlaw." Bakura threw back his head and laughed. A humorless laugh, a laugh of the insane, of the evil.

"Your mouth says outlaw, but your eyes say demon? Which is it? Well?" He leaned closer to Marik's face, too close for the boy's liking, but he didn't dare protest. "Why don't you tell me what I really am?"

"D-demon." The word burst from Marik's lips before he had time to think.

"Good." Bakura tipped his hat back with his thumb in order to get a better look at Marik. His gaze traveled over Marik's face, absorbing every detail. Marik felt increasingly uncomfortable under the outlaw's penetrating gaze. Bakura's eyes suddenly flashed with something unreadable and he smirked.

"_What's he planning?"_ Marik thought nervously.

"Would you care to explain..." Bakura paused, reaching up to twirl a strand of Marik's hair between his fingers. Marik flinched at the contact, but Bakura didn't seem to care. "What a pretty _girl_ like you is doing out here at this time of night?"

Marik immediately felt his pride flare at being referred to as a female. He already knew that he looked a bit feminine, with long hair and big eyes. He didn't need this smart-ass outlaw reminding him of that.

"I'm a _man_," he growled. Bakura laughed.

"Oh? Then what's this?" He reached down and picked something up from the dust. Marik looked at it and swore. It was the gold necklace that Yugi had asked him to give to Téa.. He had completely forgotten about it with the whole Bakura Touzoku business. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he fell down.

"That isn't mine!" he insisted, face heating up. "It's for a friend."

"A girlfriend?"

"No! It's-"

"Shut up." Marik immediately snapped his mouth shut. Even he knew that it was _suicide_ to argue with an outlaw.

"So," Bakura continued. "You say you're a man." He chuckled. "Well, I'll just have to see for myself if that's true."

"What do you-" Before Marik could respond any further, Bakura raised the pistol and brought it down hard on Marik's head. Marik had just enough time to cry out before his world went dark.

* * *

**Well, that took forever to type! Probably about two and a half hours. I need a life...**

**R&R, please!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/n: Sorry that this chapter is a little late. Hopefully it was worth the wait. (Hey, that rhymed...)**

**Thanks to: EuphrasieTheOwl, xXI. Hate. TwilightXx, VampirePrinssess, mudkiprox, xBrokendollx, sandydragon, ChocolateLizz, and Spottedpaw13 for reviewing!**

* * *

When Marik woke up, he couldn't see anything except blackness. He almost panicked, but forced himself to stay calm. Taking in a few deep breaths, he figured out that he had been blindfolded. He attempted to reach up and take it off, but his hands had been tied behind his back, rendering them immobile. That was just _great_.

With some difficulty, he managed to push himself into a sitting position. Bad idea. The motion sent pain screaming through his skull and shooting up his spine.

Wait...why did his back hurt? He figured it was probably from where he had fallen down the night before. He must have landed harder than he thought. Now...where exactly was he?

With a jolt, he remembered everything that had happened the day before, right up until he had been knocked unconscious.

"No," he whispered. "No, no, _no!"_ There could be only one place where he'd be tied up and blindfolded: Bakura Touzoku's hideout.

"_I've gotta get out of here," _Marik thought. "_I've gotta, I've gotta, I've-"_

A sinister laugh broke him away from his thoughts. Marik's blood froze. He swore his heart stopped.

"_Oh, God, no," _he thought.

"Finally awake, are we?" the same silky, chilling voice from the night before spoke. "It's about time." The voice was growing louder, accompanying the footsteps that told Marik that the outlaw was coming closer. "It's almost midday." The voice was practically on top of the boy now."

Marik desperately tried to free his hands without the outlaw noticing. Something shifted beneath him and he felt a presence uncomfortably close to him. He figured he was probably on a bed or mattress of some sort and Bakura had just sat down on it.

"I wouldn't try that if I were you. I tied those knots myself."

Marik felt disgusted by the way the outlaw sounded so smug, so full fo himself. He pulled at the ropes again, trying to loosen them. He froze as something cold, metal, and very, very sharp was pressed to his throat.

"I _said_ knock it off," the demonic man growled.

Marik swallowed a frightened whimper.

"_Never let them know you're afraid,"_ he thought. He didn't know where he had heard this, but it didn't exactly help calm him. So what if he showed he was scared? He was going to be killed anyway. Why not give this man the satisfaction of having a frightened victim?

Marik sat stock-still for a few moments, waiting for Bakura to kill him. Much to his surprise, the knife was removed from his throat.

"Good boy. You learn fast," the outlaw purred.

"So it's 'boy' now, not 'girl'?" Marik could hardly believe the cocky comeback that tumbled out of his mouth. _Why_ had he said something that stupid? Bakura laughed.

"No, no. I learned last night that you are _definitely_ a boy. Not a man, per se, but a boy nonetheless."

Marik forgot how to breathe. What was this man talking about? Could he - no. Marik refused to believe that..._that_ had happened to him. He felt something touch his hair, and he jerked away from it.

"Don't touch me," he muttered. Bakura laughed, placing his hand on Marik's hair once again.

"You were saying something _very_ different just last night," he replied.

"What are you talking about?" Marik demanded, flinching when he felt Bakura's cold hand stroking his hair. He received only a deep chuckle in reply. Marik's fears were confirmed with that sound. His stomach heaved; he almost thought he was going to be sick. He pulled desperately at the bonds once again. "Let me out of here!" he cried.

"Now why would I do that?" Marik shivered when he felt the outlaw's hot breath on his ear. "Think of all the..._fun_ we could have." Marik yelped when he felt something warm and wet run along his tanned earlobe.

"G-get away from me," he said, trying not to make it sound like he was pleading. He wasn't sure what frightened him more; what was happening to him, or the fact that he was completely at his captor's mercy.

"I would rather not. Why do you sound so frightened? I won't kill you...as long as you're useful to me."

"I would rather die!" Marik yelled. He couldn't stand it; this man - this _demon_ had violated and had pretty much just told him that he would do it again. There was nothing that Marik could do, except take it. And Marik Ishtar was not one to take things lightly. He _hated_ this feeling of utter hopelessness, being unable to do anything.

"I'm afraid that won't be happening for quite some time, my dear. Here - how's this?" Marik felt a tug on the blindfold still covering his eyes and the cloth fluttered away from his face, allowing him to finally see where he was. What welcomed him was not the most cheerful sight.

He was in a small, one-room shack. A very _dirty_ one-room shack. In one corner there was a table, heaped with money, jewelry, and all sorts of valuable things. There was a door right next to the table, with a thick piece of wood holding it closed. Marik was sitting on an old bed that had been pushed up against a wall. Dim sunlight was filtering in from a window above his head. Marik wanted to cry.

"Let me out of here," he begged.

"I am aware that my home isn't quite as fancy as some of the places you've probably been, but I think you'll grow used to it eventually."

With a smirk and a wicked glint in his eye, Bakura leaned forward and forced his lips roughly against Marik's. The tanned boy's eyes grew wide. He tried to scream, but his cries were smothered by the outlaw's mouth practically devouring his own. He scrambled backwards, trying to escape, but before long his back hit the wall and the criminal was practically on top of him.

As a desperate last resort, Marik jerked his face away, finally succeeding in breaking contact. He gasped and spit frantically, trying to rid his mouth of the foreign taste.

"_Oh, God,"_ he thought. _"He just - he...please tell me that didn't just happen!"_

He glanced back up at the outlaw. Bakura was wearing an expression of self-satisfaction, slowly running his tongue over his lips. It was all too much for Marik.

"You _sick bastard!"_ he screamed. "Let me _out_ of here! I _refuse_ to be your whore!" Oh, God...if anyone had seen that...Marik didn't even want to think about it. It was a crime for two men to show affection towards one another, not to mention a sin. Of course, the outlaw was just taking advantage of Marik, who did _not_ want anything to do with _any_ of this, but it was still against the law. This criminal probably didn't care about that, but Marik had his family to think about. If Marik was ever found out and captured, his sister and father would be very much out of luck.

With a jolt, Marik realized Bakura's plan. He had done this so that if Marik was ever to escape, he wouldn't be able to go to the sheriff without getting himself in trouble. Marik was trapped. Utterly, hopelessly, trapped.

The outlaw smirked at him. Marik wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk right off of his face.

"I'd be more careful with my words if I were you, boy," Bakura said. "You can't get out of here unless I release you, and I can assure you, I have absolutely no intention of doing that. You'd better get used to this place, and to me, because you're going to be here for quite some time."

With that, the outlaw stood, grabbed a gun from under the bed, and left the small shack, sealing the door from the outside. Marik sat for a few minutes until he was certain that the outlaw would not be coming back for a while.

Now that he was completely alone in his prison, Marik curled up into a ball and cried. He cried for his father and sister, for the village that he had been powerless to protect from this monster that now held him prisoner, and, most of all, he cried for himself and his hopelessness.

"_I'm never going to get out of here..."_

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**I hope that this chapter was worth the wait. I did my best to make it a somewhat decent chapter.**

**R&R, please!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay. Here is the next chapter. ...Not much else to say except it's the next chapter.**

**Thanks to: MewMewKitty78,** **xXI. Hate. TwilightXx, sandydragon, ChocolateLizz, Ishiko-Riku, VampirePrinssess, EuphrasieTheOwl, xBrokendollx, and xoyamiforeverxo for reviewing!**

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Bakura stood outside of his hideout until he heard quiet sniffling coming from inside. With a smirk, he turned and walked off. The further he got from his hideout, the more the smirk dropped from his face, until he was wearing a scowl.

Bakura felt cross with himself. He didn't know why he had chosen to remove the blindfold from the boy's face. The best kind of hostage was a frightened hostage. Sure, the boy was definitely frightened, but being able to see his surroundings might comfort him somehow. There was a window right above the bed. If the boy spoke to his dead relatives (he must be truly crazy) he would probably find some small measure of comfort in the stars.

Bakura sighed and shifted the gun in his grasp.

"I should've killed him last night," he muttered. "Wouldn't have had to worry about this if I had."

Come to think of it, why _hadn't_ he killed the boy yet? He had definitely had plenty of opportunities. So why hadn't he?

A rabbit hopped into his path, somewhat startling the man he shot at the creature, but missed and it bounded away unharmed. Bakura stared after it through narrowed eyes. How could he possibly have missed such an easy shot?

"That boy is bothering me in more ways than one," he growled as silken blond hair and clear lavender eyes flashed through his mind's eye. He continued to wander until he heard a wonderfully familiar sound; horse's hooves and wagon wheels.

He crouched behind a large rock and waited. Soon enough, a covered wagon appeared, drawn by two horses. Bakura cocked his gun and waited for just the right moment before shooting.

One of the horses fell as a perfectly aimed bullet lodged itself in its chest. The man driving the wagon immediately jumped up, grabbing his own gun from the seat beside him.

"Who's there?" he demanded. Bakura left his temporary hiding place behind the rock. The man seemed slightly taken aback by the appearance of the ghostly figure dressed in black, but stood his ground firmly.

"What do you want?"

Bakura laughed his signature wicked laugh. "I want your money and valuables, old man."

"Y-you're a kid!" Bakura's eyes narrowed. He cocked his gun menacingly.

"I'm _not_ playing games," he threatened. He may have been young, but he was the most feared outlaw around. "Give me whatever valuables you have."

"I have nothing!" the man cried. "Let me pass!"

"You are lying to me. I told you, I am not playing games here."

"I do not have anything valuable!"

"Do not make me ask a third time. My patience is growing quite thin."

"I told you, I don't have-"

"Father!" A small boy crawled out of the wagon and ran over to the man, grabbing his leg and staring at Bakura with wide, fright-filled eyes.

"Seth, get back!" the man ordered, attempting to shield his son from Bakura's piercing gaze.

"Akhenaden!" A woman looked out from the wagon. "Just give him the money! It isn't worth your life!"

The man looked at his wife, down at his son, then back at Bakura.

"Alright," he decided. He went back to the wagon and removed a small box, which he tossed at Bakura. The box landed at Bakura's feet, causing dust to fly up. "There. Take it and leave!"

Bakura opened the box and looked inside. Satisfied with the amount, he slipped it into his pocket. Then, without warning, he raised the gun and shot. The man fell forward with a gasp and lay still, never to move again. The woman screamed.

"Father!" the little boy cried, tears streaming down his face. Bakura turned and began walking away, only to stop when he felt something tap against the back of his head. He turned his head and was amused to see little Seth, angrily throwing rocks at him with all the strength he could muster. Which, admittedly, wasn't very much.

"How could you?" the boy yelled. "We gave you our money and you shot him anyways!"

Bakura caught one of the rocks the boy was throwing and threw it back at him with much more strength. Seth flinched, but the rock had been aimed so that it only knocked his hat off. It landed with a muffled _'thud'_ next to his dead father and the boy made no move to pick it up.

"Consider yourselves lucky," Bakura said coldly. "I hit a vital spot directly. Be grateful that I didn't prolong his death, like I could have if he had not given me the money." Bakura tipped his head one millimeter to the left to avoid a poorly-thrown rock that Seth stubbornly launched at him.

"I'd consider teaching your son some manners, _miss_," Bakura directed his comment to the newly-widowed mother of the boy. "It could be his downfall someday." With that, Bakura turned and walked away.

"Just you wait!" he heard Seth yell. "Wait till I'm all grown up! I'll hunt you down and avenge my father! You'll see!"

Bakura smirked, counting off in his head.

"Let's see...there's Kaiba, his little brat of a brother, the Taylor's, Joey Wheeler, Duke Devlin's many admirers, this kid...my, my, this is getting to be quite a list I have."

Bakura chuckled as he fingered the money box in his pocket. This simple robbery had been exactly what he needed to take his mind off of the boy waiting in his hideout. But now those thoughts were back. With a small frown, Bakura realized that he didn't even know the boy's name.

It was, Bakura thought, _very_ improper etiquette to not introduce one's self to one's host. Especially when said host was being courteous enough to surrender his own bed to his guest.

Bakura almost laughed aloud. He never failed to amuse himself. Since when did he care about etiquette and being polite to others? He could care less about how others acted towards him, and cared even less about how he treated them. It was the way he's been raised. Who was to tell him that he was wrong?

"But still," he mused. "If that boy is going to be staying for a while, I might as well learn his name." of course, the boy obviously wasn't going to just give his name willingly. How could he be convinced?

Bakura mulled this problem over briefly and a slow smile spread across his face.

"He'll tell," he decided. "He'll tell me _everything_...as soon as he's hungry enough.

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**There ya go. Not quite as good as previous chapters, but still better than nothing, I guess.**

**R&R, please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Ugh, I hate writer's block...**

**Thanks to: MewMewKitty78, CupCakez, EuphrasieTheOwl, sandydragon, ChocolateLizz, VampirePrinssess, marialeiah, SHADOWoftheFOX, MattFanGirl, Bakura's deep brown eyes, and sakuraXdrops for reviewing!**

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Marik had finished crying. He was done with feeling sorry for himself. Now his main focus was trying to get out of this place. He had been working relentlessly at the ropes around his wrists for the past fifteen minutes. His wrists were rubbed raw and slightly bloody, but he was making progress. Slow progress. Painfully,_ excruciatingly _slow progress.

A noise at the door made him jump. He immediately turned his gaze in the direction of the sound. The door stayed closed.

With a sigh of relief, Marik started tugging at the bindings again. No telling when the outlaw would-

"What did I say about pulling at those ropes?"

Damn.

Marik stopped. The white-haired man was standing at the foot of the bed, smirking. How long had he been there? How had he gotten there without Marik noticing?

"When you're an outlaw, it's important to know how to slip in unnoticed." Of course. Marik wasn't dealing with some run-of-the-mill evildoer. This was Bakura Touzoku, the cream of the crop.

Satisfied that Marik was no longer moving, Bakura walked over to the table and dumped out the money box he had so willingly been given. The coins shimmered in the dim light as they landed amongst the other treasures with a pleasant _clink_.

"Like it?" the outlaw said, not turning around. Marik quickly turned his face away, embarrassed that he had been staring so intently.

The outlaw turned to Marik with a smirk. He walked over to the bed.

"Now," he said. "Let's have a bit of a talk." He climbed onto the bed, straddling the boy's slim waist.

"A...talk?" Marik blinked up at the man looming over him. This outlaw expected him to talk? Just what was going through his sadistic, conniving mind?

"Yes. A talk." The man leaned down slightly, pressing their hips close together. Marik forced himself not to gasp at the feeling. The last thing he wanted was for the outlaw to think that he was _enjoying_ this torture, because he wasn't.

"Now...let's begin with an introduction. You already know who I am. Tell me your name." An order. Marik Ishtar did not follow orders. He remained silent.

"Your name. I assume you have one, boy. Tell me."

A defiant glare and a shake of the head.

"You little son of a-" Bakura raised his fist, ready to strike, but something stopped him.

The boy, despite his bravery, had twisted his face to one side, cowering from the anticipated blow. He was shaking out of his fright. Bakura could feel the trembling from the body beneath him traveling up his legs and along his thighs, causing two reactions, one from his mind, the other from his body. And a small part of him felt that he liked his body's reaction better. He lowered his fist.

"That was a warning," he said to the boy, who was staring up at him with a mixed expression of confusion and relief. "You may not tell me anything _yet_, but I have ways of getting what I want out of others." Bakura pushed himself off the boy's body and started for the door.

Marik watched him go. As soon as the outlaw had left, he began tugging at the ropes again. But why was there a little voice in the back of his mind that was begging him to call the outlaw back? Why did he have a sudden urge to talk to the criminal, tell him about his past, maybe even learn about the other's past. He wanted - No! This wasn't right! He shouldn't be having these thoughts! He should be trying to escape!

It was the outlaw, that was all. Clouding his thoughts with these..._fantasies_. Images of the (rather handsome) man leaning overtop him filled his mind's eye.

People like Bakura could do things like that to people, taunt and torment them until their thoughts were so muddled that they thought they actually needed the outlaw there beside them. People like Bakura cared about no one but themselves and would use their victims until they got what they wanted. That was why they were called outlaws.

Marik shook his head sharply, trying to clear his mind. The outlaw didn't matter. Escape. That was all that mattered. Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa.

Marik repeated these four words over and over to himself. _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._ He pulled desperately at the ropes. _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._

Was it his imagination, or did the ropes seem to be loosening? _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._

Yes! They _were_ loosening! _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa. _Just a little more... _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._

There. His right hand was free. Now his left hand was out. _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._

Marik pulled his hands around to his front. He could move his arms again. He could get away! _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._

Marik slipped off the bed and started for the door. _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa. _He hesitated by the table with all the money. With just a handful of it, Ishizu and Pa would be set for a long time. With two handfuls, he could have some left for himself. _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._

Marik shook his head. There was no time! He had to get away! _Escape. Freedom. Ishizu. Pa._ He turned his lavender eyes hungrily to the door.

Just three more steps...two more...one more...

_Escape! Freedom! Ishi-_

Too late.

The door opened just as Marik reached for it. The outlaw's eyes glinted as they swept over Marik. Marik cursed himself for pausing for so long.

"Well, well, well. It seems that perhaps the little boy isn't quite as weak as I thought. Oh, dear, and I was _so hoping_ I wouldn't have to resort to this." With speed no mortal man could possess, Bakura backhanded Marik right across the face. The boy fell to the ground as an angry red mark made it's way across his cheek. The outlaw knelt before him, smirking.

"Get up," he ordered. Marik didn't move. "Get up!" The man slapped him again. When Marik still didn't move, he grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hauled him to his feet.

"You'd better learn to obey me, boy, and learn it fast. It will make things much easier fro the both of us."

Glaring furiously at the pale man, Marik spat on the ground, next to Bakura's shoe.

"Try and make me." The outlaw's eyes glinted in a way that Marik wasn't entirely sure he liked.

"If you insist." Bakura grabbed a rope from under the table and turned Marik around. Before the boy could protest, Bakura tied the rope around his hands, so tightly that they boy's fingertips tingled, yet he made no complaint. This was probably a lasso rope, much stronger than what he had been tied with before.

The pale man shoved Marik down onto the bed, using the ends of the rope to tie the boy's hands to the headboard. In the same movement, he climbed on top of him, shifting his legs to either side of the boy's hips.

"You can be as loud as you want to be," he said, pushing up Marik's shirt as much as possible. "No one will hear you," he continued, pulling off his own shirt. Marik felt the ice-cold lump of terror settle in the pit of him stomach as realization fully set in.

"No... No!" he yelled, pulling desperately at the rope. "Let me go! Get off me! Stop-" His protests were cut short as the outlaw's lips crushed his own. He felt something stroking the roof of his mouth and realized with a sick feeling that this was the outlaw's tongue.

Marik tried to fight back the onslaught of tears that came pouring out of his eyes, but it seemed impossible. Even more came running down his face when the outlaw licked them away with a self-satisfied smirk. Marik was trapped, and they both knew it. If only he had run when he had the chance!

Escape was inevitable. He would never be free. Pa and Ishizu were doomed.

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**I tried not to make this a total fail due to freakin' writer's block. I know what's going to happen, I just can't put it into words to write down!**

**R&R, please**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Okay, this time I have the actual chapter. And it's a pretty long one, too. It took me a long time to write. The majority of it is a flashback, but I'm hoping that everyone will enjoy it just the same.**

**One more thing, to anyone who apologized to me for putting "update soon" at the end of a review, I'm sorry. I like it if it's put at the end of a review, I just don't like being reminded constantly to update when I actually do have a life outside of fanfiction. So, if it's put onto the end of a review, it's cool.**

**Anyway, thanks to: VampirePrinssess, sandydragon, mudkiprox, xXI. Hate. TwilightXx, sakuraXdrops, MewMewKitty78, Bakura's deep brown eyes, and Spottedpaw13 for reviewing!**

**One last thing before I begin. Sorry to anyone who was expecting a sex scene, but I really don't write those. I can write **_**implied**_** sex scenes, but I don't really like writing actual sex. It makes me feel...weird. So just use your imaginations to fill in that part.**

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Marik lay on the mattress, chest heaving. Bakura sat on the edge of the bed, smirking.

"Well?" he said. Marik caught his breath long enough to respond.

"I hate you," he hissed, glaring at the outlaw. The man simply laughed.

"Your _body_ was saying something else," he said, petting Marik's hair. It was just so soft, he could be content to just stroke it forever...

Marik jerked his head away.

"Don't you dare touch me," he growled.

"And you're going to make me stop?" Bakura scowled, but lowered his hand all the same. Marik didn't notice. He was busy concentrating on not passing out. The outlaw smirked at the boy's lack of biting comments. Who said you needed _music _to soothe the savage beast?

"Why don't you stay here, _darling_." Marik shot Bakura a feeble attempt at a glare. Bakura chuckled. "Don't worry, I'll be right back. Try not to miss me too much."

Marik said nothing as the outlaw left the hideout. As soon as the door was shut, he felt rage well up inside him. He was so _weak_. He could do nothing to stop his tormentor, and even if he could, he would be too scared to try it. He was just a kid, he couldn't do anything against an outlaw like Bakura. Not only that, but his father and sister had been counting on him. And he had let them down.

"I'm such an idiot," Marik muttered, hot, angry tears falling down his cheeks. "I'm not strong enough or brave enough to protect even myself. How am I supposed to take care of my family? I'm sorry," he whispered, lowering his head. "I let them down. I let _everyone_ down." Marik finally succumbed to his exhaustion and fell into a fitful sleep.

Bakura walked over to his makeshift stable. A loud whinny greeted his entrance as his horse trotted over to him.

"Hey, Necrofear," he said, stroking the horse's nose. Necrofear nudged him, asking for treats. Bakura took an apple out of his pockets and tossed it in the air. The horse caught it between his teeth and then quietly retreated to a corner of the stable, munching it's prize. Bakura smiled slightly. Necrofear was a good horse. It was lucky that he had taken a liking to Bakura so quickly. Otherwise Bakura would have had to stay at the Taylor's ranch longer, acting like a sweet, innocent child. The thought made Bakura want to vomit.

"It was lucky that those fools believed my story," Bakura said with a laugh as he picked up a brush and headed over to his horse. "I've managed to find a town where all the people are too yellow to try and keep me away. They're just _begging_ to be robbed." Necrofear whinnied in agreement. Bakura laughed again. "They're such cowards, they even sent a _kid_ to do their dirty work! Poor fools, they must think the kid's dead by now! He sure _wishes_ he was dead! My father sure would be proud of me if he knew..." Bakura trailed off, gritting his teeth. If there was one thing Bakura Touzoku never did, it was think about his father. As far as Bakura was concerned, his father was an embarrassment to outlaws and bandits everywhere.

**(Flashback)**

"Kuraaaaaaaaa~!" Something heavy dropped down onto the sleeping twelve-year-old's chest, screeching in his ear. With a yelp, the boy shot up, shoving the weight off his chest.

"Amane, what the hell?"

The eight-year-old rolled to the side and crouched on the floor, eyes glittering.

"Daddy says if you don't get your lazy ass outta bed right now, he's gonna take you out behind the stables and beatcha!"

"I'm not scared of that old man." Bakura flopped back down in an attempt to get some more sleep.

"Bakura Touzoku!"

The boy immediately leapt off of the pile of straw that served as his bed.

"C-comin', Pa!" he called, frantically grabbing his clothes and jamming them on. Amane flashed him a smug "I-told-you-so" look and skipped happily out of the room. Bakura stuck his tongue out at her retreating back and grabbed his old, hand-me-down, worn-out hat. He shoved it irritably onto his head and went to see what his father wanted. As he left his small room, he tripped over an outstretched foot in the doorway, landing flat on his stomach. He looked up at Amane's smirk and felt his temper flare up.

"I'm gonna kill you!" he yelled, scrambling up. Amane yelped and ran, her brother just a few feet behind her.

"Daddy!" she screamed, rushing outside. "Bakura's scarin' me!"

"Get back here, you little rat!" Bakura called, running right after his sister. Amane ran up to a man with white hair, tanned skin, and a large scar under one eye.

"Help me, Daddy, he's gonna kill me!" she said, ducking behind her father's legs. Bakura stopped short at the look he was given.

"Pa, don't fall for that 'innocent little girl' thing! She-"

"I don't want to hear it." Bakura snapped his mouth shut as his father spoke. Talking back meant a dozen lashes and no food for the rest of the day. And considering Bakura hadn't had any supper the night before, he figured he'd better watch his mouth.

"I dunno what I did, Daddy. I just went to tell him that you wanted to see him, and he said he wasn't scared of you, and-"

"Shut up!" Bakura said. He was already riding a three-legged horse, he didn't want to get in any worse trouble. His father was a man meant to be feared. He was the leader of their village, for Pete's sake! Okay, so it wasn't really a "village," more of a tribe or a colony. Just a few people who had been labeled as "outlaws" and shunned by the rest of the world. Akefia Touzoku, Bakura's father, had gotten the idea for them to band together several years ago, when Bakura was barely five.

"If those people who call us 'outlaws' can band together to stop us, why can't _we _band together and stop them?" he had said. The idea was accepted by gangs of bandits from all over, and soon they had over one hundred outlaws on their side. And Bakura's father was their leader, which meant Bakura would become the leader someday. Akefia was doing what he could to "toughen up" his son and prepare him for leadership, but to Bakura, it just seemed like an excuse for unfair treatment. _Amane_ was never whipped, or forced to go without food. She was treated like a princess, or as close to a princess as a group of outlaws and thieves could get, while her brother was always given the short end of the stick.

"You're not afraid of me, eh?" Bakura cringed inwardly at his father's tone. He could already feel the cruel sting of a whip across his back. "I should have you whipped. That's practically treason." Bakura began mentally preparing himself for the anticipated beating. Akefia stared at his son for a long moment.

"Go saddle your horse. You're not getting breakfast."

Surprised, Bakura slowly began trudging towards the stable. Amane stuck her tongue out at him as he passed, but he decided it was wiser to ignore it.

"Faster, Bakura, or you'll go without lunch, too."

"Y-yes, Pa. I mean, yes, _sir_." Bakura quickly made his way into the stable. With a sigh, he began saddling his brown pony. The small horse snorted and flicked it's tail in irritation.

"_Not even my own horse likes me,"_ Bakura thought. He was used to contempt, being the leader's son, but he did sometimes wish that there was _someone_ he could talk to. There were a few other kids in the village, but he wasn't allowed to talk to them.

"If Pa would ease up on me a bit, not make me call him 'sir', not whip me within an inch of my life, and actually _feed_ me, maybe I wouldn't be so 'disrespectful' as _he_ calls it," Bakura muttered. "It's not like there's a whole lot of food to go around anyway, so when I _do_ get to eat, it isn't enough." Angrily, Bakura shoved the bridle over his horse's nose. "It's no secret that Pa likes Amane best, but I'm his only son! _I'm_ the one who's going to be in charge someday. I'd think he could stand to treat me a little better." Bakura felt his eyes stinging slightly, but he blinked harshly and th feeling vanished. He did _not _cry. He was no baby. Someday, the name Bakura Touzoku would make women faint and sheriffs tremble. He couldn't be known now as a crybaby.

He heard a small nosie behind him. He turned his head. Akefia was just finished saddling his own horse.

"Ready, Bakura?" he said without even looking at his son.

"Yes, Pa - _sir_." With a bit of difficulty, Bakura began climbing onto his pony while his father easily swung into his own saddle.

"When you're ready," he said coolly, watching his son struggle.

"S-sorry." Bakura finally managed to climb into his saddle. "I'm ready, sir."

"Wonderful," Akefia commented dryly. "Let's go."

Bakura sheepishly followed his father on horseback. He was wondering if his father was going to punish him by taking him out of the village and beating him there. It wouldn't be the first time, and it most likely wouldn't be the last. He was more concerned with the fact that his father had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and managed to saddle his horse while Bakura had been talking about how much he hated him. Just how much had he heard? Was Bakura's punishment going to be made worse for "treasonous" words?

"Pa - _sir_, where...where are we going?" he dared to ask.

"You're going to be running this place someday. It's high time you learned the trade."

"You mean..._you're_ going to teach me? How to be an outlaw?"

"Well, who else were you expecting? The only one who knows about being a leader is the leader himself, Bakura. Remember that."

"Yes, sir."

They rode on in silence for what seemed like hours. It was early in the day, but the sun was already hot and blinding. Bakura had to constantly wipe away the trickle of sweat that kept running into his eyes and stinging them. As for the silence, well, he was used to that. He wasn't allowed to speak unless he was spoken to, and his father was obviously uninterested in talking to his son.

By the time the sun was almost in the middle of the sky, Bakura just wanted the "training" to end. He was tired, hot, and his stomach was cramping from hunger. He was so exhausted, he was actually seeing things. There was a blue and green cow, a jackrabbit with horns, a tribe of Indians-

Wait.

The Indians _weren't_ a hallucination, Bakura realized as the got closer. Soon he and his father were passing right by the camp. Bakura couldn't help but stare. There were mostly men, with a few women and children doing various things throughout the camp. A few of the Indians were staring back at Bakura. Not in a curious way, not in a friendly way. To Bakura, it seemed a little bit...hostile.

"Uh, Pa...?" he said.

"Ignore them," was the only response he got.. "Just keep riding." Before too long, the Indian camp was out of sight. Bakura let out a relieved sigh.

"We were afraid they'd give us trouble at first," Akefia said, startling him. "But we don't bother them and so far, they haven't bothered us." He pulled on his horse's reins and turned to Bakura. "We walk from here on. The horses know the way back to the village."

Bakura hurriedly slipped off his horse, dust kicking up around his shoes. Mimicking his father, he turned his horse back the way they'd come and let it go. Both horses trotted back towards the village.

"Follow me," Akefia said.

As they were walking, Bakura wondered just how long it would be before they stopped to eat, if they were going to stop at all. He couldn't even remember what food actually tasted like. His hallucinations were slowly growing worse, from the hunger and sun beating down on his twelve-year-old head. His throat felt like it was completely coated with sand. With each step, he lagged further and further behind his father.

"You're slacking, Bakura," Akefia said. Bakura opened his mouth to apologize, but all that come out was a choked cough. Once he started, h couldn't stop coughing. He fell to his knees, grabbing at his achingly dry throat.

"What's the matter with you?" His father sounded far away. Had he even stopped walking, the least bit concerned? Thousands of brightly colored dots swam in front of the boy's eyes. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He started heaving, like he was throwing up, but nothing was coming out of his stomach. He was beginning to wonder if this was ever going to end. If he was going to die, why didn't he just die? Why was this being prolonged so much?

Bakura collapsed onto the ground, the colored dots and the light of the sun slowly fading as he lost consciousness.

Next thing he knew, something cold and wet was being slashed onto his face. He slowly opened his eyes and, for a moment, was unaware of his surrounding. He was sitting in darkness, but it was obvious that it was still daytime. Where was he?

"Decided to join the living again, eh, Bakura?" Bakura sat up and looked in the direction of the voice. Akefia was sitting a few feet away from him, legs crossed and chin resting on one hand.

"W-what happened, Pa - _sir_?" Bakura managed to say.

"You passed out. Not the first time I've seen it. Luckily, we were close to this spot."

Bakura looked around and realized that he was lying in the shade of a large, overhanging boulder. So large that it blocked out the sun, leaving Bakura lying in the shade.

Bakura braced his hands against the ground and shakily stood up, leaning against the boulder for support.

"Pa - _sir - _shouldn't we get going?" he asked. Akefia laughed.

"Not _now_. You can barely walk."

"No. I can go on. I can." To prove his point, Bakura took a few small steps away from the boulder. Without the boulder supporting him from behind, his legs gave out underneath him. He closed his eyes as he fell forward, but instead of connecting painfully with the ground like he had expected, something strong and worm stopped his fall. He opened his eyes. His father was now on his feet and had caught him before he had fallen on his face. The gesture was strange and vaguely familiar. Bakura had a faint memory of years ago, when he was first learning to walk, and his father had caught him just like this. But Akefia had not shown any sign of affection or concern for his son since he had become leader.

"See? You can't even hold yourself up." The arms supporting Bakura were gone, and he fell with a small thump to the ground. Akefia had probably realized his blunder and was now making up for it. Bakura tried not to show how much it hurt.

"We'll rest here for a while," Akefia continued as Bakura picked himself up. "Here." It took Bakura a moment to realize that his father was holding out some bread and meat. _Food_. Finally. Bakura grabbed the bread and meat and tore into it. He hadn't tasted food in _so long_.

"Slow down, Bakura. You're going to make yourself sick."

"_Well, maybe if I got food more than every couple of days, I wouldn't have to eat so fast,"_ Bakura thought. But he did make an attempt to slow down, if only to savor the food longer.

"That's better." Akefia handed Bakura a canteen filled with water. "You'll kill yourself, eating like that."

"Sorry, sir," Bakura muttered, taking a gulp of water. It was rather warm, with a slightly metallic tang, but to Bakura's parched throat it tasted better than anything. Now that he had eaten, he immediately felt better. He leaned back against the boulder, closing his eyes slightly. His father watched him for a moment before standing up.

"Well, let's go back," he said. Bakura sat up straight.

"Back where?"

"Back to the village. It's too late in the day to do anything now. We'll come back out tomorrow."

"_Just how long was I out for?"_ Bakura wondered. He realized that he hadn't been able to even see the overhanging boulder while they had been walking. Not even from a distance. It was a large boulder, fairly hard to miss. Had his hallucinations prevented him from seeing it? No, that couldn't be. Then how had he gotten there? Was it possible that his father had actually carried him from where he had fallen? He hadn't even touched Bakura without beating him in so many years. Bakura felt a small, strange surge of affection, deciding that maybe his father cared more about him than he let on.

"Let's get a move on, Bakura. It's a long walk back."

"Yes, Pa."

Then sun set when they were a little more than halfway to the village. It cooled down considerably, but now they had more wild animals to worry about.

"Stick close to me, Bakura," Akefia commanded. "If you lag behind too much, I'm leaving you out here."

"Yes, sir."

Bakura managed to keep up with his father for the remainder of the journey. Before too long, they passed by the Indian camp. Bakura watched as they passed, hoping to see an Indian hunting dance that he had heard about, when warriors danced around a fire to pray for good hunting. But there was nothing. Not a single Indian in sight. Not even any smoke rising from the hole at the tops of tepees to alert a human presence inside.

"Strange," Akefia muttered. He began walking a little faster. Confused, Bakura picked up his own pace as well. Without warning, Akefia suddenly began running. Not wanting to be left alone, outside the village, at night, Bakura sprinted after him.

"Pa," he said between gasping breaths. "What's happening?"

"We have to get back to the village."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Save your breath, Bakura. Run."

In the distance, a faint, orange glow appeared.

"_What's that?"_ Bakura thought. As they got closer, the glow slowly got brighter and brighter. _"It's...it's fire,"_ he realized. _"A really big fire."_ He heard his father curse under his breath and begin running impossibly faster.

"Pa, what's going on?" Bakura cried. He was getting a feeling that no outlaw should ever have: Fear. Pure fear.

"It's the village! Damned Indians!"

The village...Indians...fire...None of it was making any sense to Bakura.

"Pa-" Bakura cut himself off as the village suddenly burst into view. It was burning. The flames leapt up high into the sky. The smoke stained the star-filled night, forming strange shapes. Akefia stopped short, just a few yards from the burning village. He whirled around and grabbed Bakura by the shoulders, forcing the twelve-year-old to look into his eyes.

"Bakura, listen to me. I'm going in there o try and find your sister. If neither of us come out in ten minutes, you're going to run. Run, and get away from here. Do you understand?"

"I think you. But, Pa, what's going on? Why is this happening?"

"I don't know. I don't care. When I formed this village, people believed that I couldn't be the leader because of my children. They thought I'd give them special privileges, or treat them better than others in the village. I had to come up with some way to lead effectively. None of that matters right now. All that matters right now is keeping you and your sister safe. You are my son, Bakura. As long as you're alive, I've had a reason for living." Bakura's eyes widened. So his father really did care about him!

"Pa, I-"

"Ten minutes." Akefia disappeared into the flames.

Bakura stood just outside the village, waiting. He grew more and more edgy as time ticked by. When he thought ten minutes had passed, he looked expectantly the way he had seen his father leave.

Nothing.

Bakura felt sick horror settle in his stomach when he realized his father hadn't come out yet. He was supposed to run...but he couldn't! Amane and Akefia were still in the village. They could be in trouble or they could even be...

...dead.

Bakura didn't even realize that he was approaching the flames until he was inside the burning village. The fire was unbearably hot and singed the ends of his hair. He could feel his feet blistering inside his shoes with each step he took. He took off his hat and threw it away, afraid it would catch on fire if he kept it on. He wanted to call out for his father or little sister, but each time he opened his mouth, he choked on the thick, acrid smoke.

A loud whoop startled him. Thinking he had been spotted, he whirled around. Nothing but flames. Another whoop, from the other side of him. Indians. He decided to follow the noise. Maybe he would run into his father. Slowly, he walked in the direction of the sound. It wasn't hard, as more whoops sounded. Something must have happened. But what?

Bakura burst into a small clearing that was surprisingly devoid of flames. The knot in his gut twisted when he recognized it as his own home. Surrounded by Indians.

Bakura swallowed and took a few steps back, crouching on the ground. He prayed to a god that he wasn't even sure he believed in that he wouldn't be spotted. As he watched, two Indian warriors came out of his house. Someone else was with them, tied up and beaten up. His father. Akefia Touzoku, the king of thieves.

The warriors forced Akefia to his knees as another Indian stepped forward. Bakura guessed that he was probably the chief. The chief said something in a language Bakura didn't understand. The two Indians stepped away from Akefia, but he didn't move.

"_Get up, Pa!"_ Bakura yelled inside his head. _"Get up and fight! Don't be such a coward!"_ Bakura's father made no movement, even as the chief began to speak, this time in Bakura's language.

"You have desecrated our sacred burial grounds, allowing thieves and criminals to wander freely here. Our ancestor's spirits have been angered. They will only be at rest when your home is burned to ashes, and your blood runs as freely as your people!"

"_Pa, get up! Don't you get it, they're going to kill you! Don't go down without a fight! Pa, get up, I-" _Bakura turned his face away as the chief raised his knife high in the air and brought it down. The was a slight _whisk_ as the knife sliced downwards, a dull _thunk _as it made contact with flesh and bone, then silence. The Indians all started cheering at once.

"Kura?" A small whisper made bakura turn around.

"Amane!" he hissed. His small sister looked worse than he did, covered with soot, ash, and burns.

"Kura, what happened?" Amane tried to see around her brother, but he was quick to block her view.

"Come on, we need to get out of here."

"Where's Daddy?"

"Dead. If you start crying, I'm going to hit you." Bakura's voice was so flat and emotionless that it surprised even himself.

"D-dead?"

"We're getting out of here. Let's go."

"No! Not without Daddy!"

"Amane, if we don't leave right now, we'll die too.'

"I don't care!"

"Fine, then!" Bakura said harshly, somehow managing to keep his voice down. "If you don't care if you live or die, then I don't either! Go ahead and burn to death or get murdered by Indians! See if I care."

Bakura stood and walked off, never looking back at his little sister. As soon as he was out of the village, he started running, like he was supposed to in the first place. He never once looked back at the place he had come to accept as home. He tripped in the darkness, his arm landing on a sharp rock. He lay there, not moving. He felt his eyes burning with unshed tear, but he passed it off as dust in his eyes. He had never cried before, he wasn't going to start now.

Bakura hauled himself to his feet, breathing hard. He had no idea where he was, but it was darker than he thought. He needed to find some place to stay the night. But where? He started moving again, at a slow, shuffling pace. After what seemed like hours, he saw the dim lights of a house. His spirits rose slightly and he started moving faster. He dragged himself up to the house, but hesitated before knocking on the door. He needed a reason for showing up, out of the blue, in the middle of the night.

His family had been killed. He'd keep that much. By Indians, no, bandits. They'd be more likely to believe him then. He was a kid, he was hurt, and it was the middle of the night. Hopefully, he was pathetic enough to get some sympathy from strangers.

Bakura raised his fist and knocked on the door. A muffled conversation came from inside the house, accompanied by the sound of walking feet.

Bakura clutched his arm, trying to make himself more pitiful-looking. The blood had dried a while ago, but he tore at the scab and made sure fresh blood dripped between his fingers. He was already planning how to rob these people. He may have only been twelve years old, but he would always be an outlaw at heart. He would succeed where his father had failed. He would become the greatest outlaw in all of history.

Starting at this house.

**(End Flashback)**

Bakura scowled. Now he was in a bad mood. He yanked the brush irritably through his horse's mane, causing Necrofear to snort angrily and step back.

Bakura threw the brush on the ground and stormed out of the stable. He needed something to take his mind off of his past. The thought of the boy he was still holding captive came to his head. The boy was probably still feeling sorry for himself, but Bakura could care less about that. All that mattered to Bakura was Bakura. If causing the boy more pain was what it took to forget his father, that was fine with Bakura.

By telling Bakura to run instead of saving his own life, Akefia had shown weakness. A true outlaw never showed emotion. That was what Bakura had been taught his entire life. By protecting his son, Akefia had broken this rule. It was an unforgivable act in Bakura's eyes.

Bakura paused outside his hideout, allowing his thoughts to wander free for a few moments.

"_Pa, I can't believe how weak you are. I'm not like you. I'll be a true outlaw. I'll never be an embarrassment like you were. I promise you that."_

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**R&R, please. This took a long time to write, and I hope everyone who's been waiting is satisfied with it.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: What's this? An update? An actual, honest-to-God **_**update?**_** Yes, I'm back, with a fixed computer and no more writer's block, for the time being. As long as my computer doesn't get NINE FREAKIN' VIRUSES FROM GOD-KNOWS-WHERE again, I should be fine.**

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"_Marik..."_

"_Dad? What is it?"_

"_Marik...you dishonor your family."_

"_Huh?" Marik blinked, tilting his head to the left, his sandy blonde hair framing his tanned face. "What have I done?"_

"_Nothing. And that's just it."_

"_What?"_

"_You're eight years old now. You're a strong lad, and yet, you do nothing. _Nothing_." Marik's father laughed. "That cur does more for me than you do, and he's not even my own flesh and blood!"_

"_But...I don't understand."_

"_Of course you don't. And you never will." Marik's father suddenly reached out and seized a handful of the boy's hair._

"_OW! Let me go!"_

"_Do you know _why_ you will never understand? Because you are an evil, disrespectful little boy! And you always will be!"_

"_Father, please, you're scaring me!"_

"_Evil boy! You're going to let your own father die!"_

"_No, father, I don't want you to die! Please let me go!"_

"_You're an evil child! The embodiment of the devil himself, that's what you are!"_

"_Dad, stop! Ishizu! Help!"_

_A young woman with long black hair hurried in and pulled Marik away from his father. As he was ushered away, Marik could still hear his father's insane rambling._

"_Just you wait, you evil boy! You'll betray us all before I'm rotting in my grave!"_

Marik woke with a start, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

"_What the hell was that?"_ he thought. He tried to wipe the sweat from his forehead, but his hands jarred to a halt before they could reach his face. He tilted his head back and saw that his hands were still bound tightly above his head. He gritted his teeth together.

"Dammit!" he yelled, jerking furiously at his bindings. "Dammit, dammit, dammit!" He slumped down. There was no way he was ever going to be freed. Not unless Bakura untied him and left the door wide open, which would never happen. Marik half expected tears of despair to start running down his face, but none did. There wasn't even that all-too-familiar stinging sensation that told him he was going to cry.

"I've been crying too much lately," he muttered bitterly. "I've got no tears left."

Marik sighed, his thoughts drifting back to his dream. Was it a memory? No, his father, even at his worst, had never treated him like that. Although Marik had to admit, many of the things that were said in the dream were painfully close to being true. Marik was doing something terribly wrong, not stopping the outlaw from doing these things to him. Not even fighting back. Just like his dream had told him, he was doing _nothing_.

"Finally awake, are we?" Marik's head snapped in the direction of the chilling voice. Bakura was sitting at the small table, idly stacking the coins that were scattered across the top of it. Marik felt his heart start pounding at the sight of the white-haired man.

"_Don't let him know you're afraid," _Marik scolded himself. "_You can't let him think that he's won."_ But why not? Why shouldn't the outlaw think he had won? He had already stolen away Marik's freedom, bravery, and, most importantly, his pride. What was left to steal? Why didn't the outlaw just kill him and get him out of the way?

"It's boring unless you're awake," Bakura continued, standing up and starting towards the bed. Marik glared as the man stopped by the edge of the bed and removed his hat and shoes. Bakura smirked.

"I'm in a bad mood," he said. "Unfortunately for you. If you stay quiet and submissive, I'll let you live."

"Don't you touch me, you bastard," Marik growled. Bakura chuckled, crawling onto the bed.

"Don't act like that," he purred, moving closer to Marik. "I'd _hate_ to have to kill you." Unexpectedly, the outlaw pressed his hips against Marik's, earning a gasp and a small moan from the boy. Bakura smirked.

"You see?" he mocked, rolling his hips slightly. "You cannot deny that you enjoy this."

"Yes, I can."

Bakura was mildly surprised at the boy's bravery. Usually he had people begging for mercy the moment he locked eyes with them. But this boy, this _child_ was defying him. Despite the fact that he couldn't move his hands and was completely at Bakura's mercy, he was attemtping to fight back.

"_He's definitely _got spirit,"Bakura thought, smirking.

"_Let's see if I can break that."_

With a low chuckle, he nuzzled his face against the boy's neck, running his tongue along the smooth bronze skin. As expected, the boy went into a panic.

"Get off!" he yelled. "Don't touch me!" A swift bite made the boy silence himself. Bakura felt the tense body beneath him relax. The boy was submitting at last.

"Good boy," the outlaw murmured, raising his face to the boy's. he gazed into the violet, terror-filled eyes with a feeling of power. Staring into those beautiful eyes, Bakura lowered his lips against his prisoner's. He pressed his tongue inside the boy's mouth, enjoying the unique taste. It was sweet, yet slightly spicy-

Marik saw his opportunity and bit down on Bakura's tongue. He tasted a metallic, coppery liquid. He had drawn blood.

Bakura hissed and pulled his face away. He glared at the smug little brat before him.

"You'll regret that, boy," he growled. He raised his hands to the boy's neck. "I told you I would let you live if you were a good boy." His grip tightened slightly. "Too bad you didn't listen." He wasn't really planning on killing the boy just yet. He just wanted to see the terror in his eyes, knowing that the outlaw had full control of the situation. He wanted to boy to be filled with a sense of defeat and despair as he prepared to choke out his last breath...

Something slammed between Bakura's legs, making him see stars. He bit back a yelp, but a strangled cry escaped him as he fell. He fell to the floor and a groan slipped out before he could stop it.

"_That son of a bitch!"_ he fumed inwardly. _"_That's_ what he was waiting for!" _He grabbed the side of the bed and pulled himself up, ignoring the uncomfortable - not to mention freaking _painful_ - throbbing that was now coming from his nether regions.

"You're going to pay for that," he threatened.

"Guess I'm not as weak as you thought, am I?"

Bakura was slightly taken aback by the boy's brash answer. Bakura Touzokou, at seventeen years old, could bring the bravest sheriff to his knees in a matter of seconds. Yet this child was standing up to him. Bakura couldn't help but feel a strange surge of respect for this boy. He was either very brave...or very stupid.

"_This boy is different,"_ he thought before he could stop himself.

_Different?_ Absurd. Sure, normally when he took a prisoner, Bakura would kill them in less than twelve hours, but as soon as he had seen this boy, he had known that he wasn't killing him. The minute he had gotten a good look, he had felt something inside of him stir. A harsh longing he could not place, but it prevented him from killing the child. Even now, Bakura felt tht same stirring when he saw the boy lying on his bed, arms stretched above his head, eyes flashing as he glared at Bakura, silently but stubbornly refusing his advances.

It reminded Bakura of a time when he was younger, back in his village. The village cat had cornered a mouse and was slowly torturing it into submission until death was probably a welcoming relief. As the young Bakura watched in morbid fascination, the cat pounced on the rodent, clawing at it's soft fur and biting at its tail before releasing it. Each time, before running, the mouse had fought back, nipping at the fleshy pads on the cat's feet, as if trying to distract the predator while the prey made its escape. After what seemed like hours of this game, it ended in a spurt of blood and a cut-off squeal. Although Bakura had been silently rooting for the mouse, the cat had won in the end with its superior skills.

Bakura had later been beaten for wasting time when he should have been doing chores, but the way the mouse had stubbornly fought back in such a futile situation had stuck with him until he finally worked up the courage to tell his father about it.

"_The mouse must have known it was going to die. Why did it bother to fight back?"_ he remembered asking.

"_Because even though it knew the cat would kill it, it still had hope that it could escape."_

"_But why?"_

"_Why does it matter? It was a dumb animal that only existed to fill that cat's stomach. Go do your chores."_

But this boy was not a mouse. He was much stronger. His will was harder to break. Bakura felt a flash of respect...and that unknown feeling that he couldn't name. Something inside him made it unbearable to see the boy tied up any longer. He pulled out a knife. The boy flinched.

"_Beautiful,"_ Bakura thought, immediately shaking the thought off like a bothersome fly. He held up the knife, the blade glinting.

"Do you promise not to run away?"

The question caught Marik off-guard. He blinked. "_What_?" The outlaw sighed.

"If I untie you-" he waved the knife. "-will you not try to escape?"

Marik's jaw dropped. This monster was offering him _freedom_? What the hell was going on?

"What's the catch?"The outlaw tipped his head back thoughtfully. He studied the ceiling as he pondered the question. Finally, he lowered his gaze back to Marik's.

"You fascinate me," he said simply. Marik was silent. The outlaw smirked.

"If you don't take me up on my offer, I'll have to leave you tied up. And I _know_ you don't want to feel helpless." Bakura put one knee on the bed. "Completely at my mercy." He grabbed Marik's wrists. "Like a mouse in the claws of a cat." He held the knife against the rope. "Well?"

Marik closed his eyes and nodded once.

"You won't try to escape?"

"Well, I really can't, now can I? The window's too small, and the door's always locked. Even if I _do _get out, I'll be stuck in the desert without food, water, or a horse. As much as I hate it, this is the only place where I'm safe."

"Smart child, aren't you?"

Marik opened his mouth to protest, but before he could pronounce a syllable, the outlaw's lips were against his own again. Marik's first instinct was to fight back, but then the outlaw would keep him tied up forever. He decided it was best to just sit there until Bakura was satisfied.

Much to his surpiese, the pale man drew back after just a few moments, although he hovered mere centimeters away from Marik.

"Kiss me back," he murmured.

"You're insane," Marik growled. Bakura chuckled.

"Perhaps. But you want to be untied, don't you?"

Marik hesitated. He longed to put his arms into a more comfortable position, but he did _not_ want to do..._that_. It was against the law! He couldn't!

But...was it really breaking the law if no one knew about it? If nobody saw it and never found out about it, was it really a crime? Surely anyone in this situation would do the same. Marik sighed.

"Fine," he muttered. Bakura's eyes flashed with triumph and he grinned.

"You _are_ a smart boy." Marik glared at Bakura as their lips met again. After a brief hesitation, the tan boy reluctantly kissed back. To take his mind off of it, he watched Bakura.

The outlaw's eyes were closed, while Marik's were wide open. He actually seemed to be _enjoying_ this. But whether he was enjoying torturing Marik or the kiss itself was uncertain. His face seemed almost...peaceful.

He actually looked rather handsome, Marik realized. When he wasn't getting off on tormenting Marik, that is.

Marik's eyes slid closed as he began to enjoy the sensation. It was wrong, but it felt so _right._ Marik couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when the outlaw eventually pulled away.

"Good boy. You learn quickly," Bakura said with a smirk. At that comment, Marik lost everything that he had felt during the kiss.

"Don't get used to it," he snapped. Bakura laughed, slicing through the rope and freeing Marik's hands. The white-haired man straightened and slipped the knife into his belt.

"Watch what you say, boy. I think I'm being pretty damn hospitable, letting you wander free, considering you haven't even found the courtesy to tell me your name."

Marik sat up, rubbing his wrists. At least he could finally move around again. Then he realized what the outlaw had just said. Did he really want to know his captive's name so badly?

"_He's letting me actually move around," _Marik thought. "_It wouldn't kill me to tell him my name..."_

"...Marik," he muttered.

"What did you say?"

"My name is Marik. Not boy."

"Marik, eh?"

"Yes. That's my name," Marik said, noticing that the outlaw was silently heading to the small, wooden door.

"Where are you going?" he asked, cringing at the note of desperation in his voice. Bakura smirked, indicating that he had heard it as well.

"Now don't you worry your pretty little head, darling," he mocked. "I'll be back soon enough." chuckling darkly, the outlaw slipped out the door. A few seconds later, a thunk indicated that the door had been sealed shut.

Bakura leaned against the outside of the door.

"Marik," he murmured. "Marik..." What was happening to him? His knees were going weak. "Marik." his heart started pounding, thudding against his rib cage. His stomach felt odd. He had heard of having butterflies in the stomach, but had never actually experienced it himself. All that Bakura could think about was the boy that he was holding prisoner.

"What the hell is going on?" Bakura thought, tipping his head back and studying the sky, as if it held the answer. The answer was actually something so simple yet so alien that Bakura didn't even consider it as an answer.

After five years of earning a reputation of being the most cold-blooded, black-hearted creature to ever walk to face of the earth, after five years of ruthless killing and non-stop pillaging, the outlaw Bakura Touzokou was in love.

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**It's not quite as good as I'd hoped for, but it's better than nothing. I personally don't think it was anywhere near worth the long wait, but it was the best I could come up with.**

**R&R, please!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaack. *evil grin* Sorry for the long wait.**

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Marik's stomach growled for the fiftieth time in half as many minutes. He wondered when exactly Bakura was planning on feeding him. Then he wondered if this was part of Bakura's plan, to let him slowly starve to death instead of killing him quickly and painlessly.

"Definitely sounds like something he would do," Marik muttered. "He lets me wander free, tries to gain my trust, only to kill me as slow as possible, days of torture waiting ahead."

With a sigh, Marik stretched his arms above his head until he felt his back pop. He had to admit, it was great, being able to move about freely for the first time in what felt like weeks.

"If I had been stuck in here for weeks, I would've starved to death long before now," Marik thought out loud. "I'd say it's been two days at the most."

His stomach cried out again, and he wrapped his arms around his torso, attempting to quiet its protests.

"Would you shut up?" he muttered. "I don't have anything to give you right now, so just be patient. You're making it difficult to think here." Even as he said this, he couldn't help but think, _"And what, exactly, is it I'm thinking about?"_ White hair and a cruel smirk flashed across his mind's eye. He shook his head violently. He would _not _allow himself to think about the outlaw who had caused this mess. Bakura may be handsome, but that couldn't make up for the injustices done to Marik and countless other people.

Wait...had he really just used the word "handsome" to describe Bakura Touzokou? The lack of food must be affecting his brain more than he thought.

"Bakura Touzokou is a cruel, bloodthirsty demon who needs to be exterminated at all costs," Marik said, trying to sound determined. He let out a dejected sigh. "But I'm not the one who can do that... It was foolish of me to think that I could kill someone in the first place. Even more foolish to think I could kill a killer."

Marik shook his head again. This was not the time to be thinking these things. He had to make a plan of some kind. He looked around the room, his gaze settling on the table in the corner that held all the money the thief had stolen.

"_Maybe I could take some of that, steal his horse, and make a run for it," _he thought. _"His hideout can't be too far away from the village. Maybe if I make it there, I can lead the sheriff and his men back here and catch Bakura off guard."_ Marik glanced at the door, which Bakura always sealed from the outside. _"I just need a way to open that first..." _

Marik stood up and walked to the door. He pressed both hands against it and shoved with all his might. When the door didn't budge, he threw his entire body against it, ignoring the way some of his muscles (especially in his lower back) screamed in protest. The door still refused to give. With a defeated slump in his shoulders, Marik stepped away from the door.

"No good. I can't open it on my own..." He sat down on the floor. It was better than sitting on the bed where Bakura had forced him to break the law so many times. "So now what am I supposed to do?" With a sigh, he lay down on his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Maybe I should just lay here until I die." He rolled his head to one side. He blinked. What was that? He sat up and reached under the bed, grasping the small metal box and pulling it out.

"Is this where he keeps his more expensive treasures? I didn't think a thief would be wary of other thieves." Carefully, Marik shook the small box. To his surprise, he didn't hear the rattling of coins, but a soft thudding sound.

"So, if it's not money, what's in here...? What is it that's so important that he has to keep it in a metal box? A _locked_ metal box at that," Marik mumbled, noticing the slightly rusted padlock keeping the box sealed off from curious, probing eyes. He tugged halfheartedly at the lock, not expecting it to open but willing to try all the same. As he expected, the lock didn't break.

"Hmm..." Marik glanced up, lavender eyes scanning the room. "There has to be something I can use to get this thing open..." He stood up and placed the box on the bed, looking for something heavy enough to break the lock. His gaze finally rested on a pile of rocks nestled in the corner. Bakura had probably tossed them there after he built the hideout and hadn't taken the time to put them outside.

Marik walked over and selected a decent-sized rock, about the size of his fist. With luck, it would break through the lock and he could find out what Bakura was keeping hidden.

Marik stared down at the box and brought the rock down onto the lock. Other than causing a few sparks, nothing happened. Frowning, Marik hit the lock again. Still nothing. Frustrated, Marik slammed the rock down with all his might. The lock gave out, snapping into two pieces. Marik set the rock down, moved the pieces of the lock aside and opened the box, eyes widening as he saw its contents.

A small, leather-bound book. A journal by the looks of it. Raising one eyebrow, Marik picked it up and opened it, reading the inscription on the first page;

"_This stupid little book belongs to Bakura Touzokou, the future king of thieves. Let any and all who attempt to read this be warned that a horde of thieves and outlaws will find you in the middle of the night, slit your throat, and steal your women and valuables. Like Indians do. Amane, if you even _think_ about reading this, I will skin you alive and boil your innards for the horses dinner."_

Marik frowned. Bakura kept a journal? Scratch that. Bakura had written in a journal and actually _kept _it? And not just kept it - kept it hidden? Why? What was written in it that was so important that the "great" Bakura Touzokou would not only keep it, but make sure that no one could ever find it?

Marik swallowed. He had a bad feeling that whatever was written in this journal was nothing good. In fact, knowing Bakura, it was definitely nothing good. And yet, something deep within his mind compelled Marik to sit down on the bed, open the journal to its first entry, and begin to read the innermost thoughts of Bakura Touzokou.

_June 5_

_My name is Bakura Touzokou, and sumday I'm gonna be the king of thiefs. So why my father thot it was a good idea to gimme this stoopid book, I'll never no._

Marik smirked; obviously, a good education was not high on the "king of thieves" list of things that were important in life.

_I don't see why the old man thot I'd have more use for this thing than my sister. But I supose that ther's nuthin' better to do 'round here, since Father won't let me talk to any of the other kids here. He sez havin' frends wood in-ter-fear with my "trainin'" so I supose it'd be best if I din't have none. Speekin' of trainin', I'd best stop writtin' and get back to doin' work 'fore Pa comes back and sees me slackin'. I dunno if I can go much longer with no food._

Marik raised one eyebrow as he turned the page. Bakura's father had "trained" his son by not feeding him if he disobeyed? Even Marik's father was better than that, even if he and Marik had never exactly been close.

_August 18_

_At times, I kinda wish Pa wood take me out on a job. Jus' so I'd no what I was doin' when I finally get the chance to. Pa don't care about me none. He only cares about Amane, my sister. She's the one who always gets real food, and real blankets, and pretty much everything I don't get. I dunno what I ever did to make Pa hate me, but I wish I cood take it back somehow. I'd better stop ther. If anyone ever reads this thing, they'd never let me heer the end of it. I hate lookin' week, so I'd better not go and writt nuthin' to inporant in heer._

Marik chuckled slightly. The outlaw's spelling was horrendous. Then again, if his father really was a well-known bandit, he probably wouldn't have been too terribly concerned with teaching his son proper spelling and grammar. Or taking proper care of his son, from the sound of it.

_Sept 21_

_It's official. As soon as Pa's dead or run away, I am killing my little sister. She went an red this thing behind my back and as soon as Pa was gone for the day, she started mockin' me fer wantin' more atention from Pa. I got so mad that I punched her in the eye, making it broose an swell up somethin' awful. 'Course, as soon as Pa got back, she goes runnin' up to him, makin' it sound like I hit her fer no good reeson, and Pa din't lissen to my side of the story at all, he juss made me go with no food fer the rest of today AND tomorow and made me do all Amane's chores along with mine. I hate her. I hate them both. What makes my sister so special that she gets treated like a princess, while me, the future king, is treated like a slave? It ain't fair, it juss ain't fair._

Marik felt a surprise feeling of sympathy for the young outlaw. He didn't know what it was like for a sibling to be treated better, since Odion had raised him and Ishizu, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for Bakura, who was not only treated poorly by his father, but also overshadowed by his little sister. Marik turned the page again, and the next entry, only two sentences long, sent a slight chill through him.

_Nov 3_

_I hate my father. I wish he wood die._

No explanation, just those two sentences, accompanied by what Marik could only assume were spots of long-dried blood. Or were they tears? Marik couldn't tell, and he honestly didn't want to know. Glancing over his shoulder to make sure Bakura hadn't snuck in without him knowing, he turned to the last entry in the journal.

_I don't know what month or day it is. I don't care. Pa is dead, and Amane most likely is to. Good riddance, I say. The Injuns burnt down the village and murdered my pa. I don't care. I don't feel anything. Amane prolly died in the fire with the rest of the village. That's fine with me. I never liked none of them. They never liked me either. I'm at some ranch house. The folks heer are nice, but stoopid. They have no clue that I plan to rob them as soon as my arm is better and I can breeth normal again. I am the only surviver. I am the king of thiefs. Someday, everyone will know to fear the name Bakura Touzokou. I swear this by the bloodstained memory of my home._

Marik stared at the page with wide eyes. So that was why Bakura was so cruel. He was trying to prove himself to his father in the only way he knew how; being even more cruel and bloodthirsty than the man who raised him. Marik closed the book and held it close.

"So that's your big secret, Bakura," he whispered, using the bandit's name for the first time ever.

"Find something interesting, did we?" Marik jumped to his feet and whirled around, the journal falling to the ground in his haste. Bakura stood leaning against the door, his reddish-brown eyes glaring at Marik from beneath the brim of his night-black hat. He straightened and stormed over to Marik until he was almost nose-to-nose with the younger boy. Bending down, the white-haired outlaw retrieved the book containing his most precious secrets from the dusty ground. He stared at it for a long time.

"This book...was hidden for a long, long time. It's been years since I've even touched it, much less written in it," he said softly, running his fingers over the course leather cover. Before Marik could say anything, Bakura threw the book down, grabbed his collar and threw him against the wall. Marik fell to the ground with a soft grunt.

"I kept that thing hidden for a reason, you bastard!" Bakura yelled, eyes gleaming crimson in the low light. Marik scrambled to his feet only to have a punch land in his gut. The tan boy doubled over, gasping for air. Bakura grasped a fistful of his blonde hair and yanked his head back forcefully.

"I tried to be nice. I untied you. I let you wander around freely without me supervising you. And the thanks I get..." he slammed Marik back againstthe wall, his hands on either side of the other male's head and his face mere centimeters away. "Is you going behind my back and snooping through my personal property?"

"If you didn't want me to find it, maybe you shouldn't have untied me at all!" Marik yelled back, shoving at the pale outlaw. Bakura grabbed the boy's hands and pinned them above his head, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"You're right. Perhaps I should fix that problem and make sure you never go through my things again!"

Before Marik knew what was happening, Bakura threw him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Marik cursed and tried to push the outlaw off of him, but Bakura's fury made him stronger and he had Marik's hands tied behind his back before he knew what was happening. Marik felt furious tears falling from his eyes as Bakura began to remove their clothes.

"To think that for a second I actually felt _sorry_ for you!" he screamed, thrashing as Bakura leaned over him. The outlaw paused for a second, staring down at his captive with an odd look in his eyes. Finally, he spoke.

"I'm an outlaw. I murder, I steal, I do anything I feel like doing. If you feel sorry for me, there's no hope for you. I don't need anyone feeling sorry for me."

"Everyone needs someone to feel something for them at some point," Marik shot back, tears still in his eyes. "You weren't always an outlaw."

"There are two kinds of people in this world, _Marik_," Bakura snarled. "Those like you that were born a little goody-goody, and those like me, who were born with a pistol in each hand and a heart of black."

"You weren't born that way. And I'm not nearly as innocent as you think I am."

Bakura stared down at the younger male for a long time. Sympathy, for an outlaw? Pah! The boy was insane. Bakura had been born wicked, and would always be wicked until he was hanging from a tree limb, waiting to be picked apart by the birds and the bugs. And yet...somehow, what the boy was saying struck a chord in Bakura. Had he been born a cruel demon, or an innocent child that just wanted his father's approval?

"I'm right, aren't I?" Marik's voice broke into Bakura's thoughts. "You know I'm right."

"...Why don't you just shut the hell up?" Bakura snapped. He grabbed Marik's shoulders and forced the boy to lie flat on the mattress. "The only sound I want to hear coming from you is screams of torture, understand?"

Marik squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for what was about to come. It didn't hurt as much anymore, and he found that if he concentrated, he could block out the majority of what was going on. But this time was different. To his surprise, he felt something wet land on his face. Opening his eyes, he was shocked at what he saw.

Bakura Touzokou, outlaw extra ordinaire...

Was _crying_.

* * *

**Okay, I am slightly paranoid with the end of this chapter. I personally don't think that the rating needs to be upped to M, but if people start getting on my case about it, I will. I think it's fine if I leave the story at a high T, but I don't know if others agree or not.**

**It's been forever since I've updated, I know, and my only excuse is that I've had so many ideas for other fanfics that I want to write, and I've ended up with a bunch of half-written plot bunnies and I've totally neglected my current stories. That, and I've gotten a Tumblr. And it is just as addicting as they say. Every spare minute, that's where I am. I actually have an internet window open on tumblr and I'm repeatedly checking it as I write this, it's very distracting. Anyway, I'll try to get back to updating more often, but I make no promises. (**Sorry for bothering you with this long author's note, anyone who actually bothered to read this! Now, if you'll excuse me...I have a Gym Leader to beat on my Pokemon game.**)**

**R&R, please!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, play practice has had me crazy busy. I have a small part, but it's part of the chorus so I have to go to every rehersal.**

* * *

"Yami, this has got to stop. We have to do something."

"You think I don't know that, Seto?" The sheriff sighed, staring out the window at the rain pouring down. "You think it doesn't haunt me every night that _he's_ still out there, alive, killing countless people while I just sit here helplessly?"

The mayor of Domino placed one hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I know how you feel. Perhaps even moreso. I know that I'll ever sleep easily until that demon is dead and buried. I'll never be able to leave Mokuba alone for more than a second until I'm absolutely certain he has nothing to fear." Seto sighed. "He's tired of this, living in fear. He's just a boy. He wants to be able to go outside whenever he wants without having to feel afraid of who could be waiting for him. All of us, we just want our lives to be normal again."

"I know how that feels, Seto. Trust me. I know." Yami rubbed his forehead witth one hand and chuckled slightly. "Sometimes I wish I had gone with Yugi to work as a simple ranchhand. No worries, no responsibilities other than doing a job and doing it right. If he makes a mistake, it's easily fixed. If I make a mistake, people die. People die, their families are torn, no one can live normally." Yami pressed one hand against the window, staring at the rain continuing to fall from the skies. "People die. It's a fact of life, I know. People die, people are born, today becomes yesterday, life goes on. But for innocent people to be murdered in front of me when I know that there's something I can do...well, I just can't rest until Touzokou's stopped for good."

"We're with you Yami," Seto said. "The people of this town trust you implicitly. Perhaps even more than they trust me."

"That's good, though, isn't it? That the people trust me?" Yami turned away from the window as if the sight of rain now hurt his eyes. "I'm the sheriff. I've vowed to protect the town and it's inhabitants. So far, I haven't done anything to keep that promise. And still, they continue to trust me." He laughed and shook his head. "How many more nights of terror have to pass, Seto, before they begin to doubt me? How many more people have to die?"

"The town would never doubt you Yami," Seto replied. "Everyone knows you. Half of these people grew up with you. Everyone knows you're doing your best to stop Bakura."

"But my best isn't enough!" Yami slammed his palm against the window, his shoulders trembling. "It's not enough to stop him. It will never be enough to stop him. I've tried everything, even dragging complete strangers into what should be my business and my business alone. I'm at my wit's end, here, Seto. I don't know what I should do. Half of me is actually considering surrendering to Bakura. Maybe giving up will take the thrill out of attacking us and he'll leave us in peace. But the other half of me knows that will never happen, that giving up means he's won and he'll never stop until he's killed every last man, woman, and child in this village, until there's nothing left but a few empty houses and dusty shelves of what used to be a happy, peaceful town."

"So what do you plan to do then? Surrender, or fight back? You know that no matter what you decide, the people of the village will be behind you one hundred percent."

Yami stared out the window for a long time. The rain was finally starting to clear up, and a thin ray of sunshine was streaming through the dark clouds, lighting the small village. Bakura Touzokou never appeared in daylight, using only the cover of darkness to perform his dastardly deeds.

Darkness. Nighttime. Bakura always seemed to disappear whenever he attacked, melting into the blackness of the darkest nights. No one had ever followed him, believing it was too dangerous, he would hear them following on horseback and shoot them. But if they were to follow on foot... Sure, it would take much longer, and there was a chance that they would lose track of him, but maybe, just maybe his hideout wasn't as far as they thought... Perhaps...

"Seto, tell the people I need volunteers," Yami said, with newfound determination. "The next time Bakura attacks, I'm prepared to follow him, and not return until I have him captured and ready to be hung."

* * *

Marik lay on his side, facing away from Bakura. He wasn't tied up anymore, but Bakura still forced him to stay on the bed next to him. Probably just another way to torture him. Marik flinched slightly as he felt the mattress next to him shift slightly and Bakura's bare chest press against his back. It didn't feel _too_ horrible, but he quickly banished that thought, along with any others that entertained the notion that he could feel anything other than hatred for the outlaw.

"Marik." He hated the way he said his name, like he had every right to say it. He had no right, not after all that he had done. "I don't like hurting you, you know."

"I hate you." Somehow, those three words lacked the vigor they had once held. Bakura sighed.

"I know you do. You've mentioned this before." A pale hand reached over and brushed Marik's hair off of his face. Marik still refused to turn around and face his captor. A soft sigh was heard from behind him.

"You know," the outlaw began. "If you were anyone else, I would've killed you that first night, as soon as I had gotten what I wanted. I almost did. I had the knife in my hand, poised over your heart. I was ready to do it in a heartbeat. But I hesitated. I hesitated where I had never hesitated before. And that's why I knew, I had to let you live. You were...different."

"Different?" Curiousity finally got the better of Marik and he rolled over to stare into Bakura's face. "Just what do you mean by different?" Bakura shrugged.

"Hard to say. Not that it means anything, mind you. I could still decide to kill you at any given moment. And yet..." Bakura reached out and ran a hand - surprisingly gently - through Marik's hair. "...Somehow, I think it would be impossible for me to kill you. I don't know what it is, but there's something...I don't want you to go anywhere."

Marik felt his heart jump. This wasn't right. Why was the outlaw talking like this, after he had been so furious just the night before? Why was he admitting all of this? Just what the hell was going through his mind? And why did it make Marik so happy to realize that there _was_ a kinder side to Bakura, not just the evil outlaw everyone else saw?

"Well, you won't need to worry about me running off, at least. There's no where for me to go," Marik replied shortly, trying to hide his thoughts. His stomach growled suddenly, and he flushed angrily. "Unless, of course, I starve to death because of you."

"You won't starve." Bakura took Marik's hand and, in a surprising and unnerving show of gentleness, brushed his lips over the tan knuckles. Marik's face flushed more, this time our of embarrassment and something else that he couldn't quite place. Perhaps Bakura wasn't quite as bad as he thought...

Bakura smirked at him.

"I'll go find some food, okay? You just sit tight here." Bakura sat up and pulled his clothes on and grinned at Marik. "Whether or not you choose to get dressed is entirely up to you. However, I'd better not come back to catch you looking through any of my personal possessions, understand?"

"Screw you," Marik said, face flushing even more. Bakura was the same as ever. Nothing had changed at all. To think that for a second, he had felt something similar to _compassion_ towards the bastard.

Bakura tipped his head back and laughed.

"Oh, but you _have_," he said. Leaning forward, he grasped Marik's chin. "And you will." He pressed a harsh kiss to Marik's mouth before the tanned male could protest and, before Marik could even punch him, he was gone.

Marik sat on the bed for a long time, touching his mouth. Disgusting... Why would he do that? How could he be so..._sweet_ one moment and then turn infuriating the next? What was going on in his head?

Eventually, Marik shook himself out of his stupor and got dressed. And, in spite of himself, he found himself waiting on pins and needles until Bakura's return.

* * *

**R&R, please.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Another update? Not too bad, considering my last update was only about a week ago. Enjoy~!**

* * *

"...and so, people of Domino, our sheriff requires your help. If we wish to return to the peace we once had, we will need to join together to stop Bakura Touzokou once and for all!"

A cheer went up from the gathered villagers as the mayor finished his speech. Several men were already stepping forward to volunteer to join the sheriff. Only one person was silent.

A young woman stood towards the back of the crowd, her face emotionless. She listened silently to every word that Mayor Kaiba said, every syllable making her want to cry. As more and more people started to cry out for the outlaw's blood, a single tear made its way down her cheek.

"You don't have to worry." The woman turned her head. The sheriff was standing behind her, a small, sympathetic smile on his face. He tipped his hat to her slightly.

"I know it's a bit frightening, ma'am, but you don't have to worry. One way or another, my men and I will stop Bakura. He won't hurt anyone else." The woman turned away slightly.

"I know that, sheriff," she said. "There isn't a single doubt in my mind that you and your men will capture Bakura. But..." She tilted her head up and closed her eyes as the sun warmed her face. "Will killing him really bring justice? By taking his life, doesn't it just bring us down to his level? He is a human, just like we are."

"That bastard ain't no human I know of." The woman opened her eyes. Joey stomped over to stand next to Yami and glared at the woman. "I don't know how ya can stand to call him a human, after all that that bastard's done. He's killed too many people already. And ya honestly think that by killin' him we'd be stooping to his level? Pah! By killin' him, we'd be doin' the world a damn favor, that's what we'd be doin'!"

"Joey," Yami said. "That's enough. She's young. She doesn't understand the way the world works yet. She'll learn someday." Yami tipped his hat to the woman once again. "Right now, Joey, you and I need to go plan a strategy." The two men walked off, discussing possible options for luring Bakura out. The woman watched them leave.

"_You're wrong, sheriff,"_ she thought. _"I do know they way the world works. I know just how cruel it can be. I know more than you will ever know."_

* * *

Bakura dropped a small plate of food on the table, startling Marik out of a sound sleep. The pale man smirked as his "prisoner" eyed the food hungrily.

"Go ahead. Eat," he said invitingly. "We have much to talk about."

Keeping an eye on Bakura in case he tried anything funny, Marik approached the table and picked up the plate, moving back to sit on the bed. Bakura sat down at the table, resting his elbow against it and holding his head in one hand. He grinned as he watched Marik attack the food, wishing there was some way he could bring out those animalistic insincts in the boy more often... No, this was not the time to be thinking of such things. He had questions, he desired answers.

"So, Marik," he drawled lazily, picking up a gold coin on the table and rolling it between his fingers. "Where is it you're from?"

"Why do you want to know?" was the sharp retort. Bakura chuckled and clenched his fist around the coin.

"Well, you already know so much about me...personally _and_ intimately." Bakura's smirk grew at the red flush that spread across Marik's face. "I just wanted to get to know you a little more. I mean, it's only fair."

"...Yeah. Fair." Marik sighed. "I don't remember the name of the town I once came from. I've been traveling for too long, one place just blends into the next. Even if I were to return home, I probably wouldn't recognize it."

"I see. And why, exactly, have you been traveling for so long? I mean, you're little more than a child."

"I'm not much younger than you. I'm sixteen years old."

"And I'm seventeen." Bakura smirked. "Now answer my question. Why are you wandering from town to town? What is it you're looking for?"

"My father's sick. I've been trying to find a doctor for him."

"Your father, hm?" Bakura tightened his grip around the coin in his hand, feeling the edges dig into his palm, leaving small grooves. "What's wrong with him?"

"We don't know, but he's very weak and he was coughing up blood when my brother and I left to find help."

"You have a brother?"

"He's dead. He was stung by a scorpion."

"I see." Bakura hesitated and dropped the coin back onto the table. "Well, when were you planning on returning to your town?"

"As soon as I find a doctor for my father," Marik responded. Bakura stared at him, seeing determination in his eyes. He shook his head.

"Forget it. Your father's already dead."

"What? No, he can't be, my sister would have told me if-"

"When I was a child, my mother got sick," Bakura said, not tearing his eyes from Marik's face. His eyes locked onto Marik's and the tan boy found himself unable to look away. "At first, she was just a little weak, getting dizzy every so often. After two months, she started coughing up blood. After six months, she couldn't even leave her bed. She was dead before the year was out. It sounds like your father had the same disease she had. It doesn't matter if you've found a doctor or not. He's dead."

"But...why didn't my sister..."

"Think back. Did you sister ever show any signs that she wanted you to stay in the village with her while your brother went out alone?"

"No... actually, she was the one who suggested that I go with him," Marik admitted.

"Just as I thought." Bakura tipped his hat down over his eyes and stood up. "The way I see it, your sister just wanted you to get out and see the world, to not be holed up in one place your entire life. She probably knew your father was going to die anyway, so that's why she hasn't sent you a message asking you to return home."

Marik was silent. He buried his face in his hands. Was it true? Was his father actually dead, or was Bakura just lying? What should he believe?

Marik jumped when Bakura placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up into those burning reddish-brown eyes as Bakura spoke.

"If you ask me," he began. "Your sister did you a favor getting you out of there. Watching a parent die knowing there's absolutely nothing you can do is the worst feeling in the world."

There was something in those eyes. Sadness? Was Bakura Touzokou actually saddened by the thought of his parents?

On an impluse, Marik leaned forward and connected their lips. Bakura stiffened, obviously surprised, but then he relaxed, not intending to waste this surprise.

Marik's heart was pounding inside his head. What the hell was he doing? He hated Bakura. This was the man who had tortured and taunted him ever since he had taken him prisoner. And yet, here he was, kissing the man he thought he had hated. And...it wasn't horrible, or gut-wrenching. It didn't feel like he was doing anything wrong, it felt...so _right_, like this was what was supposed to have happened all along. He had been rejecting Bakura all this time...should he have instead accepted him? Pulled him closer instead of pushing him away?

His thoughts were interrupted as Bakura pulled away. Marik almost wished he hadn't.

"Well..." Bakura said, obviously struggling to find something to say. "...That was unexpected."

Unable to help himself, Marik started laughing. He hadn't laughed in such a long time, and the noise sounded foreign to his ears. It frightened him.

Bakura started laughing with him, sitting down and pulling Marik into his arms. He half-expected the boy to pull away from him, but instead - to his delight - Marik leaned against his shoulder as he laughed, not seeming repulsed at all by the fact that his tormentor was touching him.

Maybe, just maybe, Marik _did_ feel something for him.

* * *

**I'm not sure how many more chapters of this there's going to be, but probably not more than two or three. I'm finally getting out of my writer's slump and starting to come up with good ideas again. I've also recently fallen back into Naruto, but I honestly don't know if I can come up with any story ideas for that. Maybe a few oneshots? I dunno.**

**R&R please!**


	14. Chapter 14

Bakura sat up and ran one hand through his hair. He glanced down at the mattress next to him. Marik was still asleep, no doubt worn out from yesterday. After finding out his father was dead, and then kissing Bakura - something that the outlaw still couldn't believe - Bakura had persuaded him to..._rest_ a little. Needless to say, it made things much easier for Bakura when the boy didn't resist.

Bakura stared down at the boy lying on his bed. He looked so much more peaceful than he had just a few nights ago, like a great burden had just been lifted from his shoulders. Bakura smiled slightly. Until he had seen Marik, he had never known that a boy could look so _beautiful_. Bakura reached over and stroked Marik's hair away from his face. The boy grumbled in his sleep and rolled over. Bakura chuckled softly.

"Even in his sleep, he's as stubborn as ever," he said to himself. Marik rolled over again, this time unconciously snuggling into Bakura's chest. Bakura's heart skipped a beat and he smiled slightly. He still didn't quite know how this boy could cause such feelings within him. A small, niggling feeling in the back of his mind whispered to him that, after all these years, he might actually be in love, and no matter how many times he tried to reject the idea, it kept coming back full-force.

"How pathetic," he muttered. "I spend years building up a reputation of being cold, heartless, and out for nothing but blood, and I throw it all away over one boy. How stupid. Still..." He eyed the still-sleeping boy with appreciation. "I suppose he's not too bad a choice to fall for. Dammit!" He slapped a hand over his eyes. "How the hell could I let myself fall so hard, so fast?"

Feeling somewhat disgusted with himself, Bakura roughly shook Marik's shoulder.

"Hey, wake up, you," he growled. Marik grumbled and opened his eyes, glaring up at the outlaw.

"What?" he snapped. Bakura climbed out of bed, tossing Marik's clothes at him.

"Get dressed," he ordered. Marik raised one eyebrow but didn't protest. Bakura stretched and watched the tan boy dress himself, smirking slightly. Marik glared at him.

"Stop _looking_ at me like that!"

"Why? What are you gonna do about it?" Bakura asked cheekily, leering at Marik. Marik curled one hand into a fist and thrust it forward, aiming for Bakura's face, but the outlaw grabbed his wrist and used it to yank him closer. Marik snarled as Bakura smirked.

"You'll have to try better than _that_, my dear. I've spent quite a lot of time honing my reflexes these past five years." Before releasing the boy, Bakura leaned forward and pressed a kiss against Marik's mouth, just to make sure he remembered just who was in charge. Marik glared at him.

"Was that necessary?" he asked. Bakura laughed.

"Of course not. It's just fun," he said. Moving to the other side of the hideout, he picked up a small satchel and slung it over his shoulder. Marik watched him.

"You're heading out?" he asked. Bakura nodded.

"I figured it's high time I paid a visit to Domino." Marik frowned slightly.

"Are...are you sure?" he asked. Bakura rolled his eyes slightly.

"Marik, if I don't murder a few people every now and then, those citizens will start thinking I'm dead, and I can't have them thinking that."

"Well why not?" Marik asked. "Wouldn't it be easier that way? You have enough money, you could just take it all and leave. You wouldn't have to kill anyone anymore, or steal. You could find honest work somewhere!" Bakura stared at Marik and shook his head.

"Obviously there's no brains in that pretty blonde head of yours," he said. "We've had this discussion before. Some people are born with good intentions for the world, others are not. You, my dear, seem destined to make the world a better place. Me, I've had a seat reserved in Hell ever since I was born. Besides," Bakura smirked at Marik. "There's nothing more fun than giving a group of villagers dead-set on revenge the slip time after time."

"What if you can't give them the slip this time?"

"Why, Marik, I'm honored! Are you actually _worried_ about me?" Marik crossed his arms.

"Don't get the wrong idea. If you get yourself killed, I'd never be able to get out of this place alive." Bakura smirked.

"Don't worry your pretty little head about a thing, Marik. I'll be back by sunrise. It'll be around dusk by the time I make it to Domino. Just try to relax and don't run off on me."

"Trust me, I have no intentions whatsoever of doing so."

"Wonderful." Bakura grasped Marik's chin and kissed him, feeling pleased when Marik kissed him back with little resistance. "I'll be seeing you at sunrise then."

* * *

"There he is." The group of men watched from the shadows as Bakura Touzokou, demon outlaw, slowed his horse to a stop just outside the village of Domino.

"C'mon, let's get goin'! His guard's down, let's get 'im now!" Joey said in a harsh whisper, gripping his pistol in his sweaty hand. Yami shook his head, putting a finger to his lips.

"Element of surprise, Joey. We need to-"

"I'm sick of waitin', Sheriff! The time for waitin's over, the time for action's now!" There were muttered agreements from the rest of the men assembled. Yami sighed.

"Alright. But stick to the plan, and don't do anything rash!" he ordered, looking straight at Joey. The bartender rolled his eyes.

"I hear ya, I hear ya," he muttered. He looked out again, and his heart almost stopped. Bakura's horse was still there, right where it had been left. But Bakura was nowhere to be seen.

"Where'd he go?" Joey whispered.

"My, my, my. _What_ a welcome commitee this is. And to think, you set all this up for me. I'm touched, Sheriff. I really am."

All the men turned immediately. Bakura Touzokou, red eyes flashing, was standing just behind them, pistol at the ready.

"It's a shame, really. I had so hoped we could all bury the hachet tonight, become friends. But, it seems it's not to be."

"Get ready to shoot on my signal," Yami commanded in a low voice. Joey nodded and gripped his gun tighter. His hands were shaking. Why was he so frightened? This outlaw was just a kid, no way he could beat a force of grown men all armed with guns. He had no reason to be scared.

He stared at Bakura, into his red eyes. Eyes of the devil, that's what everyone called them. Those eyes, judging him, mocking him. _Go ahead,_ they said. _Go on, shoot. You're not too scared, are you? Are you too yellow to shoot a living person?_

"No," Joey muttered. "I'm not scared." Unconciously, he lifted his pistol, took careful aim.

"Joey, what are you doing? Wait for my signal!"

"NO!" To everyone's surprise, a young girl ran forward and planted herself between Bakura and the group of men.

"Don't shoot him!" she begged. "Please, don't shoot him!"

"Amane, what the hell do ya think yer doin'?" Joey yelled. "Get outta the way!"

"_Amane?" _Bakura thought. "_It can't be...She couldn't have survived!"_

"I can't let you! I won't let you kill him!" Before anyone could react, Bakura had one arm around the girl's neck and a bullet embedded in Joey's chest.

The bartender groped at the wound, eyes wide. His pistol fell from his hand as his shirt became soaked with his own blood.

"Joey!" Yami yelled. "Stay with me! Godammit, someone get the doctor!"

"Too late, Sheriff," one of the men said somberly. "He's already gone."

It was true. The light had already left Joey Wheeler's eyes.

"Godammit..." Yami slammed a fist to the ground and whipped his own pistol out. "Bakura, you bastard!" He tried to get a clear shot at the damned outlaw, but Bakura was using Amane as a shield, making it impossible to get a clear shot. Bakura took a step backwards, pulling the girl with him.

"You haven't changed at all," he muttered in her ear, so the others wouldn't hear. "You're still a pain in my ass."

"I couldn't just let them kill you. You're my brother, even if you did abandon me."

"I thought you had died, Amane."

"It takes more than a bit of fire to kill me, Bakura. You should know that by now."

"Shut up!" They were almost at Bakura's horse. "I have too many questions for tonight. Are you coming or staying?"

"I'm staying in Domino, Bakura. They welcomed me without question. They would've helped you, too."

"I spent too much of my life disappointing our old man. Felt like I would be disrespecting his memory if I kept doing it after his death."

"Dad loved you, Bakura. You know he did."

"...Shut the hell up." With that, Bakura pushed his sister down and jumped onto his horse, not looking back as he galloped away.

"After him! Get the horses!" Amane stood still as the men of the village followed Bakura, set to bring her brother to his death. The sheriff, Yami, stopped his horse beside her, looking as if he wanted to say something. Deciding against it, he shook his head and charged after Bakura.

Amane watched, a tear sliding down her face.

"Please, Father," she whispered. "Keep him safe."

* * *

Marik was, in a word, bored. He had paced the length of the hideout more times than he could be bothered to count, he had played around with some of the money on the table for a while, seeing how high he could stack it before it all fell over, and all he could think of was Bakura's cheeky smirk as he had left the hideout.

"What an idiot," Marik muttered with a smile. "Why couldn't I have gotten captured by someone with a little bit of intellegence?"

He flopped down on the bed, grunting a little as his head hit something hard under the pillow. Sitting up, he reached under the pillow and wrapped his fingers around a cold, metallic object.

"What kind of person keeps a pistol under their pillow?" he muttered, turning it over in his hands. A sudden bang on the door made him jump. What was that? It couldn't be Bakura, he would just walk in.

Throat suddenly dry, Marik gripped the gun as if it was a lifeline. There was another bang, and the door flew open. Marik held up the gun, preparing to pull the trigger.

"Whoa! Put the gun down, son, I'm not going to hurt you." Marik lowered the gun and stared at the sheriff of Domino Village.

"S-sheriff...? But how..."

"We set an ambush for Bakura at the village. He almost got away after shooting one of our men, but we caught up to him. We've captured him. He's set to hang in two days' time." Yami smiled. "It's good you found a gun here. You were going to shoot him if he came back, right?"

Marik stared, mouth slightly agape. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Bakura had been captured? He was going to be hung?

"It's impossible," he muttered. And then, without meaning to, he fainted.

* * *

**Hey, y'all! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter. I definitely liked writing it! Yes, the next chapter will, unfortunately, be the last, but it was fun while it lasted! I hope you will keep reading till the very end!**

**R&R, please~!**


	15. Chapter 15

**And here it is. The last chapter of The Good, The Bad, and The British. I humbly apologize for the wait, and I hope you all enjoy it.**

...

The sky was turning pink at the horizon when Marik slipped out of the mayor's house. He had been hailed as a hero when he had been brought to the village atop the sheriff's horse. Everyone and their brother, it seemed, wanted to know how he had managed to survive almost a week with the dreaded outlaw Bakura Touzokou, but Yami kept them at bay by telling them that Marik needed to be examined by a doctor before he answered any questions.

Doctor Solomon, a short, jovial old man who just so happened to be Sheriff Yami's grandfather (as he had informed Marik many times during his visit) was a bit more than surprised to pass Marik off with a clean bill of health, aside from being slightly malnourished and dehydrated, but that would pass quickly with proper rest and care.

"I'm not sure how you managed it, but it seems that that outlaw barely laid a hand on you," the doctor had commented with a raise of an eyebrow. Luckily, he didn't ask questions. Marik had then been escorted to the mayor's house, where he had been given the guest bedroom and was told that no one would disturb him for another twenty-four hours.

Everyone assumed Marik's silence was from the trauma of being in the clutches of the dreaded outlaw for nearly a week. Marik preferred to keep it that way.

There would be no trial. Bakura's guilt was evident enough. He was going to be hung at sunrise. He was going to die, finally, and the people of the village would be free from his torment.

But not if Marik had anything to say about it.

...

Marik crept up to the jail and pulled a crate up next to a barred window. Standing on it, he peered in. His heart leaped.

Bakura was leaning in the corner, his hat pulled down low over his eyes. He almost seemed to be asleep, but Marik could tell from his stance alone that he was wide awake and waiting.

"Bakura!" he hissed. Immediately, Bakura's head shot up and he locked eyes with Marik.

"Marik," he said, crossing his cell. He stood on the small bench/cot that he had been supplied with and stared out the window at the boy. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm gonna get you out of here, Bakura," Marik blurted out. He felt his face redden. Sure, that was what he had come here for in the first place, but maybe he should have worded it a different-

Wait.

Bakura was slowly shaking his head from side to side.

"You've wasted your time, you little fool," he said. "I'm not getting out of here even if I wanted to."

"Wha- You mean- ...You don't want to?"

No. _No!_ Marik needed Bakura. If Ishizu truly wanted Marik to see the world, then Marik wanted to do it with Bakura at his side.

"There's no point in it, Marik."

"No point in it? What about _me_, Bakura? Huh? Don't I mean anything to you at all?"

"Marik, you don't even know what you mean to me. But if you were to get me out, and we were to travel together, eventually we'd be discovered and then we'd _both_ be hung!"

"Do you really think that would happen? Bakura, please, let me get you out of there, please!"

"Marik." Bakura locked eyes with the tan boy through the bars. "No."

Marik held Bakura's gaze for as long as he could, but he had to look away when tears threatened to overcome him.

"Hey." Bakura reached through the bars and cupped Marik's cheek, wiping his tears away with his thumb. Marik reached up and grasped his hand as if his life depended on it. "Look, Marik, don't cry for me, okay? I can accept death. I'll actually welcome it, with only one regret."

"One regret?" Marik choked out. Bakura nodded. He pulled Marik's face as close as he could and kissed him gently through the bars of the window.

"I won't die a true outlaw. True outlaws don't fall in love." Marik let out a choked sob.

"Bakura-"

"You'd better get going, Marik. It's almost sunrise." Bakura kissed Marik one last time and released him. "I'll see you again in Hell."

...

In spite of everyone's attempts to persuade him to attend the hanging, Marik refused to go. It would be too painful a thing to watch and he was certain that more than one person would question him for sobbing at what was to everyone else a joyous occasion.

It wasn't until it was dark and the streets were finally silent that Marik snuck out of the mayor's house once again. He staggered blindly through the darkness until he finally reached it. Bakura's hanging tree.

"_Don't look up. Don't you _dare_ look up!" _Marik screamed in his head. Slowly, he raised his eyes up, to the branch where Bakura's lifeless body hung.

Marik's stomach lurched. He backed up and fell to his knees, emptying his stomach of what little he had forced himself to eat that day. Panting, he forced himself to look again.

It wasn't quite as grisly as he thought it would be. Bakura's neck was bent at an awkward angle and he swayed slightly in the breeze. His hat was no longer on his head, and after a few minutes of glancing around, Marik spotted it a few feet away from the tree. Not trusting himself to walk, he crawled over to it and grabbed it, holding it close to his chest as tears ran down his face.

After what seemed like an eternity, Marik stood up and slipped a knife out of his boot. He looked up at Bakura's limp body.

"I can't leave you to be eaten by the birds. Even a bastard like you deserves a burial."

Choking back sobs, Marik climbed the tree with some difficulty and cut the rope around Bakura's neck. He fell to the ground with a thud and Marik jumped down after him. He stared at Bakura's unmoving form and it slowly dawned on him that he had forgotten to bring a shovel.

He fell to his knees. He didn't want to go all the way back to the village, find a shovel in the darkness, and come back out here to bury his former lover. It would be too painful.

"Oh."

Marik whipped around at the small sound behind him. A young woman, only a few years younger than him, was standing a few yards away, holding a shovel. She smiled slightly at him.

"I guess I'm not the only one who had this idea," she said. Marik stared as she walked past him and started to dig a hole next to Bakura's body.

"Who...who are you?" he managed to ask. The girl stopped digging for a few minutes to look at him.

"My name is Amane. Amane Touzokou. I'm Bakura's little sister."

"What? But I thought...I mean, he said you were..."

Amane sighed and started digging again.

"After our father was killed and Bakura abandoned me, I found my own way out of our village, but believe me, it wasn't easy. I tried to find Bakura again, but instead I found the village. The people there were kind, and they didn't ask any questions. I gave up hope of finding my brother again and stayed in Domino for good. But then, a few years later, the village was attacked by an outlaw. I didn't see him, I was in a different house and slept through the attack, but when I heard people recounting what had happened, I knew it was Bakura." Amane stopped digging and sighed again.

"I'm as much to blame for this as he is. If I had gone to find him, instead of hiding in the village like a coward, maybe I could've convinced him to give up the outlaw life, and then we could move to another village and be a family again. But I didn't, and now this has happened." Amane shifted the shovel to one hand and quickly wiped her eyes. Marik shook his head and took the shovel, resuming the digging for her.

"He wouldn't've listened. He loved thieving too much. He got a real kick out of showing me all the stuff he had stolen, and telling me all that he had done. He wouldn't have given up being an outlaw so easily."

"I know. But just the thought that I could've done something to stop him will never leave me until the day I die." Amane wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "The hole should be deep enough by now."

"Yeah. You're right." Marik put the shovel down and grabbed Bakura's body, dragging him over to the hole and carefully setting him in, placing his hat atop his head once more and folding his hands over his chest.

Instead of moving to bury him right away, Marik stared at the body in the grave. He actually looked somewhat peaceful. The permanent scowl he always wore was gone, and if it weren't for his ice-cold skin and deathly pallor, Marik would almost think he was sleeping.

He didn't even realize he had been reaching for his gun until the cold metal was pressed between his eyes, his finger on the trigger.

His heart sped up and his palms started to sweat. He trembled and tears blurred his vision. He couldn't keep on traveling, not without Bakura. And he couldn't stay at one place, either. It wasn't in his nature. He was backed into a corner and this was his only way out.

A soft hand on his made him jump. He looked up and locked eyes with Amane Touzokou. She smiled softly at him, eyes full of understanding.

"You don't have to, but I wouldn't blame you if you did," she said. Marik let out a strangled sob. He scribbled an address on a scrap of paper and gave it to Amane.

"Could you...would you send word to my sister? Don't tell her it happened like this, make something up. Bandits, a duel, Indians, a fire, anything, but not this. Please." Amane nodded.

"I will," she whispered. "Goodbye."

"...Goodbye," Marik replied. He returned his gaze to Bakura's body. This time, his hand moved of his own free will, as he placed the gun between his eyes and pulled the trigger.

...

Bakura sat across from his father in a house that looked exactly like his old house had before it was burned down. The two stared at each other for a long time before Bakura broke the silence.

"Dammit, if I had known Hell was going to be like this, I would've tried repenting before I was hung."

"This ain't Hell, ya idiot, but it sure as heck ain't Heaven," Akefia Touzokou said, scowling at his son.

"Then where is it?"

"I don't know. Somewhere in between, I guess. I've run into a few people, and they've all got different stories. Some were practically saints and did one bad thing that denied them Heaven, but didn't earn them Hell, others were born and raised bad, but had one redeeming quality that saved them from Hell, but didn't grant them Heaven."

"So what the hell did I do to get sent here and not to Hell?"

"Beats me. Probably has something to do with that little runt you fell for. Either falling in love was your saving grace, or not killing him as soon as you saw him. Hell, for all I know it could even be the fact that you didn't run when he tried to give you the chance to."

"Alright, how did _you_ get here?"

"How else? I gave my life so that you and your sister would have a chance to run and live. If you ask me, that alone should've earned me a spot in Heaven, but apparently the big man doesn't like the idea that I spent my life robbing and killing. But he understood that when it came to my kids, nothing was ever gonna get between me and them."

"Oh." Bakura looked away, quickly changing the subject. "So, if this is an in-between for Heaven and Hell, then I'm probably never gonna see Marik again. He's too good for Hell, and he wouldn't do anything to deny him Heaven."

Akefia smirked. "Well, boy, I wouldn't be so sure of that."

"What are you-" Bakura cut off his sentence as a cold chill ran through his entire body, starting at the top of his head and running all the way down to the tips of his toes. "What the hell?"

"The same thing happened to me when your soul crossed over here. It means someone you care about very much has just been sent here."

"...My God." Bakura jumped up. "Then he...he must've...Gah, I'm gonna kill that idiot!"

"Too late for that, son. He's dead, and he's here." Akefia stood up and clapped his son on the shoulder. "Well, let's go track him down, shall we? I'm rather anxious to meet this boy that you managed to fall for. Who knows? We have an eternity here, maybe I'll learn to like him just as much."

"Godammit, Pa, you'd better stay away from him!" Bakura yelled, following his father out of the house. "He's mine, y'hear?"

...

**And that is the end. I hope you all enjoyed this story, and I really hope that the ending was worth the wait I put you guys through.**

**My next story will most likely be a vampire story starring Marik and Bakura, based off of my oneshot "Graveyard." So far, I haven't been able to come up with a decent title, so unless anyone has any suggestions for me, I'm going to stick with "Graveyard."**

**Just to get the word out, I've also decided to take oneshot requests if anyone is interested. It's just that I'm stuck with a lot of free time lately (due to my lack of a summer job) and I'd like to fill it with writing, but I haven't had any new ideas. So if anyone would like to request a oneshot, feel free to message me!**


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